Tauli Ch. 05

"She was an artist." Dia whispered reverently.

Chanda looked at her, "What was that?"

"Meirakeillian. She was an artist, of the temple." Dia said slowly, "We think of her, as the salamander who brought down an emperor. However, battle was never her passion. That is not what history teaches us. She met the emperor, for art."

The empress looked at the teeth, and felt her heart get even heavier. She didn't need to believe that someone like that had just been an ordinary person, with ordinary hopes and dreams. That came with a bitter sort of pain.

Belief in the legend kept it far away from her. She might feel small beside Prince Sai, and irrelevant compared to his wife, but it was easier that way. She didn't want to believe that Sai was anything but a legend.

The alternative was that the world was a small and fragile place. That all people were just people trying to make their own way through the horrors and tribulations that came their way. That the fear in her gut was natural, a sign that she had the chance to become as legendary as the last empress. Or nothing but a leaf on the wind.

"We're all playing with fire." She mused tiredly, picking up the crown and turning it over in her hands. Looking curiously at the break where the axe that had ended the neko had fallen. There was still a scrap of fur and hair, caught within. A piece of the mythical Toofy.

Chanda tossed the object to the ground casually, turning to her servant, and pretending that the crown was irrelevant to her. She looked at Dia curiously. Maybe the woman really was a weapon of her father's. Or maybe Sai was doing his best to manipulate the inexperienced empress.

"Come here, pretty little flower."

Her servant blushed, and stepped closer, kneeling carefully and tucking her dress under her knees. "How may I assist you, m'lady?"

"I need someone I can trust. Someone that I can speak to, so I'm not lost and alone inside my own head, like my father is." Chanda stated firmly, controlling every syllable and breath.

Dia bowed her head low, "I am always here to serve, m'lady."

"No, you're not. I know you talk to him. But he is not your empress." Chanda snapped, "So, little flower, I am going to need something from you. A proof of loyalty. To me, and not the throne, nor its power. I need you to be mine. I would force the slaving spell upon you, had the cat not broken it."

The servant bowed lower, "I am yours, m'lady."

"I may use you, as I see fit. That raises no political opportunity or threat." Chanda's mouth was dry as she spoke with a confidence that she had never felt. She knew that Sai had advised her against this, but fuck the Thunderstep. This was her life, her only life. "The opposite, is not true."

"M-m'lady?"

Chanda smiled slowly, and stretched out her legs, leaning back onto the bamboo floor, "If any discover that you have touched me, you will die. This is your vow of loyalty, Dia. You will take my innocence, and take the secret of it, to your grave. Early and shallow, or deep with the respect given to the most loyal of servants."

She wasn't really giving the woman much of a choice, but she already knew the answer. Sai had planted doubts, but Dia had always been her friend. She knew that between them lay loyalty and kindness, not the rigours of protocol, and the demands of titles.

The woman raised her head timidly, her eyes filled with tears, "I will prove my loyalty, m'lady. But not like this. I will slit my own throat, for you. Order my death, if you have doubts. Don't... Don't make me do this. Not this way."

"Dia?"

The servant shook her head, as the tears began to run down her cheeks. Clenching her fists against her knees. She whispered breathlessly, "I have no right, to speak my mind. It would be... Wrong. I cannot. Order my end, if you doubt where my heart might lie."

"Dia. Father is my enemy. I have no reason to remove him from the list of people who tried to poison me, before." Chanda sat up slowly, "You speak to him, of me, out of concern for me. But the crown, the throne, it changes things. He may not have my best interests at heart."

The woman pulled a handkerchief from her wrist, and dabbed at her nose before replacing it, "I understand, m'lady. He... He will ask me. I will relay whatever you command me, obscure whatever you wish. I am yours, heart and soul. Always."

"The world of the empress, hurts us both." Chanda said quietly, "I cannot trust you, and yet... You love me, still. It isn't just as my servant, my handmaiden. You have always been my friend, Dia. The only one by my side."

"M'lady."

She shuffled closer, taking one hand and squeezing it, before she took the next step. Doing things this way, didn't guarantee silence, but it didn't matter to her, anymore. Screw all the games. The woman wasn't just a flower, on display. They had been through everything, together.

Chanda planted her lips softly against Dia's, lingering for a moment. She pulled back, eyes shimmering, and put a silencing finger to the woman's. "Not yet. But... Soon. Return the crown to my father. Gauge his reaction. Then... Then ask the kitchen for your favourite tea. Yours, not mine."

---

Her hand idly thumbed her clit, as she sat on her back with a new pair of magically suppressing cuffs on her wrists. Exilia hummed a little ditty as she ran the alchemical formula through her head, trying to guess if there was anything she'd forgotten.

She could hear the ship pulling into the port, and knew she'd have ample opportunity to steal the ingredients that she would require, shortly. It wasn't like the average stallholder was equipped to deal with magic at her scale of things.

She tapped her foot against the deck of the ship, in beat to the finger flicking back and forth across her elven clit. Humans had tiny little sensitive ones, just like nekos. She had an elven pearl, a hard stone that you could even bite with just barely producing a reaction.

The thing was incredibly insensitive, and needed the proper kind of stimulation. Right now, her elven blood was not feeling stimulated. Her mind was full of academic thoughts, trying to bury the loss of feeling so very far from her twin, right after the death of her mother.

However, her ridiculous heat cycle was being its usual self. It wanted to be fucked, and it wanted her to be soiled and dripping. Flicking her pearl was just barely touching at that interest, and it wasn't going to be enough for much longer.

She really needed to throw together an elixir to keep it at bay, or things were going to get extremely sticky.

Like the time Kinny had found her half-drowned in the cum of a dozen taurans. Exilia snickered at the memory of her sister, the woman's horror uncontained as she stared at the white liquid dripping from every inch of her sister's fur.

The first words out of Exilia's mouth had been that it wasn't the worst thing she'd ever done.

Exilia's heart ached, as she remembered just how often Kinslayer had been ashamed of her. Just how often her twin had secretly wished that they didn't share a mother.

She knew that her sister had sometimes wondered if Exilia would be nothing more than the inheritance of her bastard father. Powerful, influential, driving magic ever forward, but at a cost that was disgusting. A monster in almost every sense of the word.

Little thought given to the path that had led them into their breakthroughs. Elatham had been a slave to his worship of death. A willing tool of the Traitor Emperor who was more than willing to take their mother's happiness away, just for his pursuit of power.

Exilia was a horny bitch, who was so desperate in her need that she was willing to let assassins and bandits have their way with her, before she taught them a lesson or six about the dangers of screwing an expert in alchemy.

Never place your cock within reach of a neko, obsessed.

Was it even in the realm of possibility that she would ever escape her father's legacy? The man had died, long before she had been born. Yet, she found her every step to be in his shadow.

Even his demonstration of death magic had led her mother to her breakthrough. The thing that had let her reach out and take the heart of a dark god. That had forced her to become a monster, when she had killed the Traitor Emperor.

"How is Exy still not dry!?" She yelled at her cunt, looking at her fingers in irritation.

The neko flipped onto her feet, and felt her handcuffs crack and shatter as she did. Her eyes lit up instantly with magic, enough to make the air taste like sulfur as it began to burn everything around her.

She pawed at one of her ears, ripping out a tuft of fur, before sticking it in her mouth. The catgirl made a face as she rolled it around, before hacking up the world's tiniest furball into her hands.

As she stepped towards the wall of the ship, she could hear the cell bars behind her falling into dust. Her magic eating away at the world, like it always did when she used it. Tearing the life out of reality, cracking the fabric between the here and the void.

She planted the furball into the wood, slapping it home fiercely. There was a groan and creak before the wood splintered. She shielded her eyes and stepped backwards, flinching at the explosion.

Green moss covered the wood as it collapsed forward, groaning and shuddering as it found itself imagined. The focus and will of the godlike neko informing the wood that life had returned to it. That it had a mind and soul, that it was a person.

Apparently her focus wasn't quite enough, because as much as she was focused on the new humanoid growing a dick, they also sprouted breasts. Something to deal with later. She was inventing a new magic on the fly, again.

The mossy-haired thing looked up at her with brilliant blue eyes, and whispered quietly, "Whoooo... Am... I?"

"Exy will give it a name later. Right now, she really needs to fuck. Unless whole world wanna go and fall into void." She replied and flicked two fingers upwards, launching the new creation into readiness, the stiffness of a wooden rod.

She smiled nervously, apologetically, "Uhm... Take her? Please. She does know her pleases and thankyou. She really will give name, later. But -"

She cooed happily as the creature grabbed her shoulders and fell atop of her. It looked down at her in angry wonder, and then glanced between them, and then back up, "Who... Are... You?"

"She's Exy. Exilia. Um... Neko with a fuckton of magic she's about to lose control of? She needs to get fucked! Please!"

"No. Your name... Is... Ink."

Her blood ran cold, though it didn't have the least effect on the angry fire burning between her legs. "Oh fuck. She bound living soul, didn't she? Shit! She was hoping she making new life. Should have known it not be that easy. She didn't mean to -"

"The contract... Is... Forged in... A name." The creature rumbled, looking at her fiercely. "Bind... Me... And I will... Take you... Ink."

"Dark god." She said as she realised it, "Oh shit! Oh, that she really never fucking... Uh... Exy calls him Bog. He's her Bog. It? He? He smells like a he, but she not sure she got that right. He got boobs."

"I am... Called... Bog." The living tree, fuelled by the stolen heart of a demon, an artificial god created from hatred by the betrayer gods, accepted her ownership of it, as the water and wind from the hole in the ship's wall hit them both.

Her eyes went wide, and her tongue blepped, as the thing pushed inside her. She panted excitedly, and pawed at it's shoulders for more. Feeling it stretching out her hungry little twat.

The ridges of the smooth wood glided into her, a knot brushing against her pearl, as he began to thrust into her with abandon. He was rough with her, and she loved him for it. Explosions of light behind her eyes, cooling the magic pouring through her like a thunderstorm.

Bog only had eyes for her, as the ship around them continued to collapse. The wood of the deck above turning into a rain of ash. Her eyes only protected because of the man-thing leaning down over her. Making her moan as he gave her every effort that he could.

The new species explored a hungry sexuality, as she foamed and slicked his shaft. Her endless wetness, thick and white, as she coated him in desperation. She began to lift her hips, thrusting in time, back against him. Trying to crush her pearl between them.

Her ears flicked back and forth, and she mewled louder and louder. Replacing the crescendo of magic with a different kind of energy. "Faster. Harder! She needs more!"

"I pledge... Myself... Ink." He groaned into her, stamina beginning to fail him.

She slapped a hand to one of his sculpted wooden breasts, and pushed a flood of strength into him. His eyes immediately lit up, and he grabbed her hips, pistoning into her like an stronger automaton.

She smiled blissfully, "Mm. Just... Like... That!"

Her knees shuddered as her first moment hit. She let out a soft and happy breath into the air. Falling weakly to the broken floor, as her new creation collapsed on top of her with a bellowing roar.

Exilia yawned weakly, and let out a contented purr. "Mmm. That should buy her an hour."

---

On a green hillside, six stones sat where they had fallen in ages long past. Six stones, worn smooth by time and rain. There was nothing important about the stones, nothing at all.

Which was exactly why it was these stones that the Golden Kitsune had chosen.

The sunlight fell across the stones, gently heating and caressing them. Kissing at the objects, in the privacy of this uninhabited and open space. No one saw the spirit of chaos pledge itself upon them, no one heard the shriek of the vixen as she completed the process she had begun in the territory of the Silver Neko.

The firmness of stone became less of an attraction, as the unyielding nature of it threatened to create internal bruises. Thankfully, the latch is broken with just a singular orgasm.

She freed herself from him, and brushed her fingers across his sculpted face, orange eyes glowing. "Nothing personal. I'm not meant to be your bride... That's for you to find. All by yourself, without the influence of this goddess fooling around."

He looked at her, moving his tongue uncomfortably, trying to work out how to more than grunt or groan.

The kitsune kissed his forehead, "Your name is..."

"Harri." Another voice interrupted with arrogant mischief.

She hissed as she spun to glare at the neko. "This is mine! Not yours! Aren't you busy, ruining my day by unleashing your darkling!?"

"Done that." Luna smirked, "Harri's cute. A species of stone? You're really making one. Not just doing that because you like annoying her?"

The Golden Kitsune sneered, "They're called trolls. And they hate cats."

"So... Boring." Luna sneered right back.

There was a grinding sound, and the new thing spoke slowly, "I... Am... Harri. A troll."

"Find Artema. Bring me her head." The Golden Kitsune snapped.

---

"A new letter! Are those new orders!? I didn't think you got many letters, all the way out here! I mean, you're really far out here. So far from absolutely everything. Getting any kind of news takes so long! Oh! Is it from the empress? Tell me its from Toofy!" Sura's voice washed over him, even as she shoved a full fist between her amber legs, sitting on his desk.

Len-Kai rubbed his eyes, and opened the bird-delivered object with a small letter opener. He dragged the parchment inside out carefully, and nodded, "Official orders... By the void. It's stamped by Lady Vanhern. Our empress was not wrong. Toofy is... Dead. Vanhern is the new empress, and is requesting my return."

Sura's fist paused, but only for a couple seconds. "I... Miss her."

"She did awaken you, toxic." He mused, before discarding the letter and looking back at his research notes.

Sura popped her hand out, to lick at it, "You're not going to pack up, then? Didn't you just get told to go back to the palace? You're supposed to do what the empress wants, aren't you? Or can researchers choose what orders to follow? No. That seems like a stupid idea. Oh! You're doing what Toofy wanted, aren't you!? You like her, more! Do you miss her, too?"

He gave a small nod to her overwhelming inquiries. He still wasn't entirely certain what it was, that Toofy had expected him to do with her.

---

Her pink feelers swam in a circle as she spun out of the way, dancing faster than she had ever moved in her life. Feet tapping across the bronze tiles whilst black claws tried to skewer the space she had been standing in.

Purple tears flowed down both her cheeks.

She didn't try and talk to him, she understood this better than she expected anyone even could. To most, those caught by the plague, hidden inside the darkling spirit, were completely lost. They didn't comprehend that the people didn't become animals, not exactly.

She whined as she ducked backwards, feeling one of his claws pluck at her rubbery skin around her neck. The searing pain of acid burning at her, as she barely escaped from actual damage. Caused by her Skip.

No matter the kind of monster he really was, beneath his glamour.

He was still her Skip.

The spirit of the infected might not remain completely intact. There was no magic user in the world that could claim that they had found a cure for it. The best she had ever heard of, was a few moments of clarity, brought by a twisting spell that was once based on a glamour.

That particular spell lay outside her area of expertise. Mostly because her areas of expertise were either fooling around, or eating an army or three. She didn't really have anything inbetween. She had nothing that could help her Skip.

The fine hands of an elf grabbed her elbow, and she shook the guard off with an angry snarl. More hands grabbed at her tail, her wings. Guards bursting through and into the room. Flooding through with swords drawn, and pointed in the direction of someone that she did not have a little heart for.

The responding roar was shaking the ground before she even realised it had boiled up and out of her mouth.

The crystals in the chandeliers cracked as her voice moved through them. The tiles broke first their mortar, and then themselves, as they moved in sympathy to the overwhelming sound of her grief. The waters in the pool twisted and turned, before rearing up and becoming a ghost of her own shape and form.

She gave in, letting the soldiers drag her away, as the liquid avatar attacked her skip with an angry snarl.

---

"Bubbles is in heat. She misses her Edric." Erientyara finished translating the nekan in the letter, scratched into the bark.

Despite the clearly romantic content, most of which was meant for the tailor, alone, the needs of the moment had caused the red salamander to deliver the letter in the presence of a number of others.

They were beneath Edric's shop, surrounded by sick and terrified nekos. Most of which had hidden beneath their makeshift beds before she had even arrived. There was two other salamanders in the room, though all the fear was directed at only one of them.

Erientyara hadn't heard anyone speak the black's name, but she knew it, all the same. It was difficult not to bow her head, in their presence. The depressed dragon leaning against the wall with their eyes shut, and one hand against their stomach. Cradling the egg hidden inside.

The distressed neko inside was anything but still. Punching and clawing at her gelatine surface, screaming at their parent for daring to fight a war whilst they were still gestating.

Erientyara had to fight her tears, hide her feelings. She bore the secret that she had lost her egg, alone. It was something that neither she nor Sharhalla would soon be revealing to anyone. A shame that she would take to her grave.

However, to counter the overwhelming pain, her king was standing nearby. The stoic blue pretending to care for his patients, even though it was clear he had been listening to every word she had been saying. Especially the explanation of why he was now pregnant.