tagNonHumanSpring Fever: The Beginning

Spring Fever: The Beginning


I am a female guardian that came of age and on the Year and a Day trial. My name is Junediai Lyric Rune-Feather Malkin of the House of Destruction twin sister of Jumada Ram Rune-Feather Malkin of the house of Light. Before long days of worry and strife causes me to forget my blissful youth. I write my memories to fill the void Loki has left me.

Underneath a large cherry tree a female clad in simple yellow and purple ao dai and black slippers sits. Knees partially drawn she balances a large pad with cup in hand. Her head hangs in concentration periodically her hand snatches at her long bangs out of her eyes. She is a dark beauty, high cheekbones, full lips and eyes of peridot. Ignoring the buzzing sound in of the congregating starfiles flips the worn pages back and forth. The look of frustration mares her brow, reaching behind her head she pulls one of the many pencils sticking out of her ponytail. Furiously she begins to scribble pausing to blow pencil shaving off the page. Carefully brushing the picture only to repeat the process. Reaching down for the canister of melon water, she cocks her head to the side inspecting her work. Screwing her face she mutters in disgust "Fuschache". Peering to the side she see an elder Monk coming towards her. Quickly getting up she bows in respect, a quick exchange of greeting in the native language, Hodos, she picks up her bundle. Tested long before she left her home world the request for admission was granted. Nodding she follows the small elf-like creature.

They arrive some hours later to a small temple of Lotus. Fondly looking at the simple structure lines of the building and the ever present of nature and balance a smile creeps across her face. Many monks are scattered around the grounds. Pausing here and there the monk introduces her to them. All greet her with genuine friendliness a small part of her feels like she has come home. Walking further into the compound they enter the Hall of Aphieani. Stepping with the corridors the cool interior and calmness of the walls settle around her. Quelling her nervousness and restoring some confidence her stride became brisk. The monk leads her further into the inner dwelling of the mountain.

Chamber doors open and she walks in to a small room. The room is circular with the most beautiful murals etched on the walls. Each panel shows the wages of war. Some show the triumph of good others evil but all show the ravages of battle. The pain and suffering both experience. It would move the hardest of warriors, to be exonerated and humbled in such a way. A small barefoot female monk kneels on the floor waiting. She a woman of ageless grace and smiles, she recognizes the return of an old soul. Motioning her guest to sit the larger woman sits in a similar style. Training has begun.

Each day of the first month the visitor enters the chamber after scholarly training and chores. Each time she left with assistance to her room. There were no visible scares but her eyes told the story. Honored with the jumpstart of her training. She was one of the few who were admitted at the second tier of the Basipetal. This training was for one goal. Concentration. One must be able to filter the mind of all useless thoughts and emotions. To focus and achieve the goal set forth. Expunge ego and exercise it, ego is the food of weakness and defeat.

Time quickly pass, each day she became stronger and more humble from these people hospitality and wisdom. Having lived a sheltered life her eyes were opened to her own ignorance and pompous attitude. Hard ship and injustice but none she has actually experienced herself is reveled on all levels of the soul.

Settling down on the hand cot she mentally calculates the time. One day before the time of Spring Fever. Three hundred thirty-six hours of mindlessness was not something she looked forward to.

It is the tenth day of this dreaded time. Staring at the calendar on the wall she checks off the day then shuffles to the cot dragging her chains of living ironroot. Manacles adorn her writs and ankles for precaution of a breakout while in this state. With the high population of young male Wudelfins she felt to be better safe than sorry. Looking down she admires the fine craftsmanship and delicate bindings. Each interwoven strand connected to the floor was light as a feather; she could almost forget they were there. Except for one problem for each wave of mindless pulsing wanton urge it tightens forcing her to lie on the floor, spread eagle and immobile.

For the past ten days she has been in the constant struggle to suppress her wanton need to mate. This ache that drives her people to procreate has almost driven her to insanity. Her foster mother visited to check on her leaving perplexed by Junediai's reaction. Licking her lips she remembers Thian's visit. She almost jumped his bones. The manacles slightly tighten then releases. Chuckling in embarrassment they are technically family. His mother, the Queen mother, adopted her and twin brother. But oh, he is yummy without added toppings. The vines wrapped around her so tight she lost conciseness. No one else has shown thankfully. Especially Chuckles. She hated this, rolling her eyes she walks to the terrace doors. Tightly barricaded she leans on the wall peering outside at the clouds, yearning to feel the wind through her hair, lifting her higher above all. Closing her eyes she almost feel herself soaring among the birds playing follow the leader. Falling and twisting in mid air, free of duty. The wind rushing past her, the air filling her lungs, raindrops soaking her clothes the tingling charge of electricity.

Sighing she sat back down on the cot eyeing her note pad and headphones. Thian did leave the new techno tracks for the boredom. A breeze filtered through caressing her skin, arching she shivered in response. Her blood calls for a mate, someone to quell this madding urge. The chain to the manacles shift causing tension on her writs. Just one would be enough to stop this craving; her fingers dig into her thighs, wanting to lick the salt off of. "Ugh." Loki's form enters her mind instead of his usual form he was half snake and man, well endowed and hungry. "And wearing bells." The chain releases giving slack once again. Lying on the cot she shifts away from the main door facing the wall. Curling into a fetal position she questions herself.

Loki hasn't shown, which is great she need his twisted sense of humor at the moment, she would put it past him that he would show up like that. His first visit here he insulted her. Without thought she moved to strike him, much to everyone's surprise it connected. Stalking off she saw the grin on the elder's face as he attended to his guest. Remembering the sound of crunching bones she smiles. Trying to calm down she begins a breathing exercise, slowly a picture forms in her mind. Not surprisingly is the Laughing Boy. Leaning against a tree in a non-descript jungle. She could tell he was looking for another victim, he would say playmate. Right and she is a canary. Openly she observes his tall, lean figure. His shoulders are broad, chest has some build and hands look so inviting. Catching herself she stifles a groan. His coloring is not of her taste but it does have some quality. Flawless creamy skin, fiery green eyes, narrow nose and upturned thin lips; his long silvery hair reminds her of moonbeams. Sighing in appreciation she stares. She could easily wound some of those delicate strands and make him pay for some of his pranks. A malicious sneer escapes her full lips. He appears momentarily distracted as if he heard something. Shrugging it off, he spies a playmate or two in the distance. She looks to see who may be. Far in the distance a couple walk in the woods. She doesn't recognize them but there is something different about them. She can't quite put her finger on it she can only see spirit of panthers in place of them. Loki appears next to them injecting into their conversation. The female jumps recognizing Loki, her body slumps in dread. Thus is the sign the games are about to begin.

A steady breeze circulates in the room bring in crisp air. Junediai has heard about his pranks and even has been the butt of them. Strangely she was quite tired of them. She wanted his attention, his touch, and his mouth. Her mouth waters in anticipation. The manacles pulse for a moment then unlocks, releasing her wrists and ankles. Stretching her sore muscles a small groan of discomfort fill the room. She knows the Fever has taken hold of her, but she is lucid. More in command than she has ever been since settling here. Sitting up she unfurls her wings. Touching them she finds them dry and need of tending. Raking her finger through a feather falls. She uses it to groom herself all the while thinking of him.

Tormenting Jariah seems to loss its shine. Giving her time to explain who he was he would bring the most interesting objects out of the air. Turning himself into a Cheshire cat he plays with a ball of yarn, catnip toys anything that catches her eye. Several times momentarily she stops look at him with murderous eyes and continues. He knows she hopes he leaves but he's bored. Appearing on a limb above them he snickers and she explains under her breath that he is a craze god and to please leave. Tossing a ball in the air he was about to speak he felt the gentle pull at his hair causing an electrical pulse to course through his body.

His reaction is comical, his eyes cross the ball hits him square on the head. Quickly looking around in irritation for the cause he resettles refocusing on his chums. They look up in confusion and the ball falls to the ground away from the tree. A slight pressure, like a finger, drifts slowly his chest past his navel stopping just short. He hears in the background Jariah snickering at his reaction. Not able to concentrate he leans on the tree. It happens again until he falls on the ground twitching next to the ball. Not quite understanding what was happening Alejandro pulls his wife away into the bushes.

Junediai finishes grooming her left wing. Stretching the right wing she begins to nibble on the end on the feather. The pressure on his chest stops, raising his head he looks around sighing in aggravation. His prey has momentarily hid from him. Fine he is now on the hunt to hurt something. His anger starts to build then a large pop from a balloon is heard. Jerking forward his anger dissipates as his chest and stomach tightens. He was assaulted by a feeling of firm, flick of wetness. Not once or twice dozens of times. One high pitch squeal of a child escapes his lips. Bouncing off the ground like a springboard he jumps to his feet. Turning into a large menacing dog he sniff the air growling murderously, becoming a blur searching high and low for the source of this power. Confronting the couple he sniffs them quickly dismissing them. Quizzically he stares at the sky, then a light bulb clicks on above him.

Just barely finishing her administrations to the right wing a hard thud echoes into the room from the terrace. Quickly pulling her wings in she waits. The ironroot bars across the doors disappear. The heavly-brocaded doors creep open reveling in a crouching position a very naked and seething Loki. His skin glistens from the midday sun hair slick back and flaming eyes burn with lust and confusion. Taken aback she doesn't cover herself. Clad in only bra and panties she gapes in wonder there is actually steam rising off his body. Mesmerized she watches him cautiously crawl towards her. His growl snaps the trance; she returns the growl as he pounces. Landing partially on the cot and floor he misses her. However, she doesn't knocking him into the wall breaking the reading lamp. Loud crashes, grunting and Guardaic cursing are heard from behind her room door. The young monk who was bringing supper dropped the food in surprise. Quickly reporting to Elder Ento that someone has stolen inside Junediai's room. The reaction of the Elder was a mixture of surprise and laughter. After a time he decides to give up his staunch demeanor and laughs. Reassuring the completely confused monk he proceeds to lead him out of the temple and tells him a story of his great, great Aunt Ka'Niz.

High above compound in the far reaching chambers of the dormitory tucked away from prying eyes and ears the commotion finally stills. After the sunset and the moon is high. The vigil by the monks is called to an end. Elder Ento decided there was only eighty-eight hours left of this time. This was the appropriate time for deep meditation and reflection. One could not achieve such under strict supervision.

Morning the predawn colors paint the sky. The bell tolls signaling for breakfast. The door flap opens two breakfast trays are pushed in. The room is beyond disaster, what was once whole may be in pieces. All the furniture and fixtures are shattered beyond repair. Tattered pieces of drapes hang off the broken ceiling fan. The cot is overturned with a gapping hole; one of the balcony doors hangs on one hinge as the other lays cracked on the floor. The bathroom door slides to the side. Wrapped only in a towel she steps out. Looking at the catastrophe she wonders how she will be able to explain. Shrugging she nimbly steps over the debris picking up the trays then out on to the balcony. First checking the elaborate bird feeder/bath she replenishes the water. Walking around the bend a small tent stands proudly within the confines of the dead end. He created a tent worthy of a desert queen set in her favorite colors of blood red and gold. Of course the peak only reaches her naval, the interior is located in another pocket dimension. Cushions spill out parting the panel opening; the dark interior contrasts against the lone occupant's skin. Lying far in the corner with his arm covering his eyes in exhaustion. Setting the trays on the stone floor she crawls in, kneeling she ignores the tempting sight of Loki's supple nude state. The rotating fan only stirs the air rich with pheromones, his fine slivery hair fans around him on the dark cushions, his creamy skin flushed just so with swollen parted lips and his eyes. Oh, his eyes are predatory with the hint of mirth.

Periodically she glances etching his mood in her mind as she retrieves the contents of the first tray. Peeking from under his arm, he sees the little girl whom is now at the cusp of womanhood. She has grown into a beautiful intelligent woman that carries the soul of another whom stirred his soul long ago. After setting the breakfast on the low table she settles back opposite of him. Kneeling she quickly consumes the meal of fruit, cream cereal and juice. Watching her consume the food was entertaining. She has this way of appreciating the very texture and flavor. After licking the last drop of cereal off her finger her attention focuses fully on him. He doesn't know to be ecstatic or dread that gleam in her eyes.

Interesting, he now understood everyone's reaction to him. Crawling next him she places his head on her lap. His body tenses for the next assault; since he arrived he has had his ass handed to him. Each time he would end up in a sinfully delightful position nonetheless. Why he let her was beyond his reasoning. Born of flesh millenniums ago he was a warrior before his assignation to god hood. Time hasn't dulled his bloodthirsty spirit or quick mind. Staying here was wrong, pursuing her for memory's sake. She posses the soul of his second wife, but she doesn't know it. She is another woman with a completely different personality. For him to feel guilt was a rarity. Raking her fingers through his hair his thoughts scatter. An hour pass, periodically he nuzzles her lap enjoying her sent. "Was this foreplay?" Stunned he sits up; his expression reminds her of a deer caught in the headlights. Taking advantage of his confusion she straddles him bringing him dangerously close to her feminine folds.

Fighting the sigh building in him he grabs her wrists to remove her from him. Making her arch, closing her eyes she turns her head enough offering her bare neck and shoulder. Shifting slightly further the towel accidentally falls revealing her ample breasts, yelping he releases her grabbing the corners of the damp material. Looking up she captures his lips as she shamelessly presses her body to his. She tries not to rush from inexperience, as she slips her tongue between his lips. Emotions well deep inside him, she chose him to be her first. His hands full of soft material fall to the side from the impact of his thought. Wrapping one arm around his neck the other presses against his chest. Groaning into her mouth he feels her test him. Savoring his texture and strength she kisses lower letting instinct take over.

Positioning the head she slowly takes him inside her. An explosion of colors erupts in his head as her body stretches around him. Holding his breath he looks down at her face. The mixture of tortured pleasure and wonder fills her. Hiccupping she moves awkwardly against him. Digging her nails into his forearms she pumps against him. Nipping her lips he places her arms around his neck then hooks his under her legs. Cupping her behind he carefully shifts her weight backwards following. Landing softly he thrusts deeply, watching her reaction. Arching with her eyes widen as she silently screams. With a series of thrusts he teaches her the art of giving, pleasing and taking. She quickly became an adept pupil.

A few days later she awoke in her room in her nightgown. Looking around it looked like nothing ever happen. Fighting disbelief she quickly calls his name. Silence becomes deafening, jumping up she burst through the open doors to the balcony. There wasn't a trace of the tent. Hugging herself she slowly walks back inside wiping a tear from her eye. Then she takes notice that she was able to walk on the balcony. The manacles rest on the writing table, and a gold and blood red pillow on her cot. Sniffling she smiles sitting she holds the pillow to her chest. A single segment carnelian bracelet becomes tangled in the fringes of the pillow. Turning it around it says in Guardaic "Property of Loki."

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