The Creators Ch. 12

"Forever they will live as one, like two lovers in the sun, shining from creation's birth, to hold a tether to the earth," she sang softly to me as Julia had to her.

"Do you know who wrote that song?" I asked her. She shook her head, her chin moving through my hair. "Yes, you do," I whispered. "She loved poetry."

"I'm sorry," Diamond muttered.

"Do not be," I breathed, rotating in her embrace so that I could look at her. "You... you almost sounded like her. Now she sings a different version."

"I know," Diamond answered. Her eyes were purple backing emerald, her face was a portrait of olive smattered with jeweled freckles, and her hair was a luxurious scarlet that bore two black antlers. Her apple cheeks were slack with the slight part of her supple lips, and her expression was rapt, unsure, but curious. So curious.

"You made love to her," I whispered.

"Yes," Diamond whispered back. I became very aware of the pressing nature of our nudity. I noted the way my pale bosom was overlapping her modest chest, and the way my rounder thighs straddled her slender ones. I closed the distance between our faces with caution, then ran my thumb across her lips, and caressed her blushing cheek with the lightest touch my fingertips could offer. She trailed one hand up my back, and the other down it. Her fingers tangled in my hair and squeezed one succulent cheek, and our lips opened and pressed. My hips rolled forward, my pubis dropped, and I penetrated myself with her, moaning my muffled delight between the seal of our mouths. I raised my face atop hers, my expression gaunt and near-mournful with its need, my body curving into hers as she set the pace. My petals blushed and dripped upon her stalk, the lips sucking with carnal avarice to pull her deeper, the pearl of my flower engorging and sliding along the top of her manhood, sending fire into my nethers. She moaned with me, our lips parting to yield a string of saliva that glistened between us, our locked gazes drunk with each other.

She snaked a curious finger down the canyon of my clapping cheeks, and raised a questioning eyebrow. I nodded with a gaping smile, and expressed the joy of my anal violation with a whine of delight. She grinned mischievously, and added a second finger to my tight filth, and I rewarded her by bringing her face to my bosom, and suffocating her with my breasts. She suckled from me, the wet tones of her mouth mirroring the squelching tones of our lustful meeting. I closed my eyes in bliss, and rested my chin between her antlers. We rocked back and forth, the sensuality of our motions never leaving us, only growing more ardent as we reached the precipice. My legs trembled, my spine dove into an arch, and my insides opened for her invading shaft and exploring fingers. Her sucking mouth pulled my nipples to aching points, her thrusting hips moved with barely-tamed violence. I cried out and shifted against her, slamming my body with all the force I could bring, separating myself with each squelching slap of flesh. My toes curled, my head fell back, and I came when she did. My insides contracted around her pumping member, which spewed her ascension deep into my womb. My body tensed for a moment, trapped in the intensity, then relaxed in satisfied languor, the echoes of it sporadically wracking my form. Her offering dripped from me and onto her pelvis, whose shaft still stood rigidly and pleasantly in my defiled depths.

"You have a strong libido, Daughter of Passion," I smiled down at her, and she returned it with an impish grin. I did not let her exit me, but held her within, coercing her arousal back with the clenching of my lewder muscles. It had been so long since I had made love without the filter of Corruption; I had forgotten the joy of it. I had forgotten the way it numbed the pain.

"I think..." I mused, brushing away scarlet strands that plastered her flushed face, "...I know how I can tell you my story without it destroying me."

"Mmm..." Diamond hummed, wrapping her lips around a reddened nipple. She could tell I liked it. Maybe she knew it awoke the maternal part of me, and that part of me mingled with my lustier side. Maybe she sensed that my daughter and I once had a relationship much like she had with her mother. I slid my hand through Diamond's hair, and closed my eyes as she nursed from me; soft, sensual lips and a curious playful tongue. I rocked my hips, moaned, and continued my tale.

Part Three: Hope

TERA

I was a survivor. I'd been a survivor my whole life. Self-pity was a detestable emotion in others, and downright disgusting in myself, but the woman who abhorred such weakness seemed to be gone. I stared at the purple veins of my wrist; the hand it bore brutally sliced away mid-palm. I tested the edge of my blade with my only remaining thumb, wondering if I had it in me. We were on a cliffside miles away from the bay. It was a sunny and clear morning, not a cloud in the sky save for the enormous black vaporous mushroom that seemed to rise continuously from the corpse of Drastin.

"Justina," I muttered. The name had been on my lips for hours now, coming from me compulsively with the miserable droning of my mind. The pain of my severed hand had been a welcome distraction, but I no longer felt the horror of losing the appendage. I'd lost so much more.

"I knew a warrior-woman who cut her wrists," Astrid said. "She'd been banished from Iona for thievery. I remember the look she gave me after she'd made the cut. Such regret."

"She still had something to live for; she just didn't realize it until it was too late."

"Do you have nothing left to live for?" Astrid asked over her shoulder.

"I'm old, Astrid. I'm five-hundred years old. I might look like a young woman, but I'm crippled with time. Everyone who knew me as a friend is long-dead, and the one piece of me I'd kept for the future is dead as well. There's nothing left to do."

"Then why do you hesitate?"

"Because I'm afraid," I whispered. Astrid walked over, and sat beside me, giving me a strong shoulder on which to rest my head.

"That fear is your life," Astrid said into my crown. "It's telling you it's not over yet."

"I can't live with this."

"Yes, you can," Astrid said firmly, pulling me into her lap. Astrid had become the stoic hard woman she'd been when I first met her. She was all codes and duty now; I missed the reckless slut already.

"You killed your mother, your god is dead, and your honor was abandoned weeks ago," I muttered. "You can do it for me, Astrid. Stop pretending to be who you were."

"I am who I am," Astrid replied. "I can't pretend, Tera, you know that. I am a traitor to myself, my people, and my family, but that doesn't mean I should continue to be one. There is always room for growth, even if it is too late."

"This is my fault, Astrid," I whispered. "We were digging where we shouldn't have. None of this would've happened if it weren't for me."

"What are you talking about?" Astrid asked softly. I told her everything. The truth spilled from my mouth like bile, and I spiced it with vitriol, trying to compel this woman to break my neck. When it was over, I sat silently and expectantly in her lap, angling my head just right.

"You are an honorable woman, Tera Autumnsong," Astrid said with a shuddering breath. "You acted when I could not, and you risked so much to do so."

"Oh, fuck you, Astrid!" I seethed. "If it weren't for me, your mistress would still be alive! I killed her!"

"You tried to save her," Astrid said, encompassing me in her embrace. "Long after I'd given up, you still held on to hope," Astrid nuzzled her face in my neck, and kissed me there. "You say you are without friends, but I consider you my dearest friend, Tera Autumnsong."

"Then do your friend a favor," I hissed.

"No, Tera," Astrid whispered. "If you can't do it, then there is still hope in you, and we can't stop fighting if there's... still... hope..." Astrid bolted upright, leaving me sprawling on the grass. She marched to the side of the cliff, and without a look back, she jumped. Her wings caught the wind and sun in a resplendent display of white, and she narrowed to a white dash in the sky, then was gone. I stared stupidly after her, then at the knife in my hand.

"Goddamn it!" I growled, and scabbarded the weapon. I walked to the cliff's edge, and peered over. Then I jumped off it, hooked my remaining hand on the ledge, and began my descent to the valley below. Fucking hope.

ANGELA

"...holy shit, Angela," Brandon finally said after I'd told him everything. Arby was in a rocking chair, smoking a pipe of sapphire flame, looking out the window at the black mushroom cloud.

"Hatred, Greed and Sorrow," Arby mused. "Corruption, Guilt and Chaos. I am Purity, Silvia was Passion, and you were Serenity; now you are just Angela."

"'Just Angela' is all I want to be, thank you," I frowned.

"If you're right about the astral plane, then someone else will fill the role of Serenity," Arby shrugged. "I hope you don't regret your choice; when the end is coming for you, you might."

"The end is coming for you too, Arby," I scowled bitterly. "You can't live forever."

"And the older you get, the more scared of it you become," Aby sighed. "The lucky ones die young."

"I didn't feel very lucky," I replied testily. "Astrid probably isn't feeling too fortunate either! Diamond was just fucking born; is she lucky, Arbitrus?! What about Justina, huh?! Are they the lucky ones?! There's a million lucky fucks turned to ash right now, but I guess you of all people wouldn't care, would you?! You and Julia are just a pair of fucking leprechauns!"

The old bastard just laughed around his pipe. "The lucky ones die young, the bad ones die rich, and the evil ones live forever. Welcome to the world, Sweetheart."

"I liked you better when I thought you were a bum drunk!"

"I liked you better when you were dead," he snorted. "I could see you; you know. I watched you give Brandon the worst dating advice in the world as he struck out with every woman in the town. I guess you were sabotaging him on purpose."

"YOU WILL NOT INSULT MY PICKUP LINES, OLD MAN!"

"Anyway!" Brandon growled, kneading his temples. "You don't know what happened."

"No," I replied. "I never got to the Pit. Lucilla was going to have Willowbud killed, but I guess Willowbud got her first."

"And you thought fucking me was more important than stopping that?" Brandon glowered at me.

"Lucilla wasn't supposed to be there, Brandon," I muttered, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "I was going to leave, I was going to try to save her, but then you pulled me back."

"So it's my fault?!" Brandon snapped.

"No," I said, trying not to choke on my shame. "In that moment I had the choice to save Willowbud, or let her die. When you touched me, it was no choice at all. I didn't want her to have another chance with you. You're mine."

"Good Mother," Arby snorted from his chair. I hardly registered he was there. I just stared at Brandon, bearing myself openly to him, hoping that he could forgive me. I wasn't sure if I could forgive myself, but then again, I wasn't sure if I needed to. As long as I had him, it didn't matter. Holy shit, you are pathetic, Angela .

"God, you're fucked up," Brandon sighed, dropping his head between his shoulders. "Oh God, why do I always stick my dick in crazy? Why can't I just have a nice girl?"

"You resurrected your twin sister from the dead so that you could stick your dick in crazy," I laughed sadly, running a comforting hand through his hair. "I don't think you get to blame God for this one."

There was the sound of annoyed conversation just out the window. Bianca was arguing with someone, then that someone started yelling, then Bianca tried placating them with an apologetic, yet resolute tone. There was a loud knock on the door, then the growls and heaves of a struggle, then the door burst open, and my parents came barging in with Bianca rushing after them. Brandon's jaw slackened, my jaw slackened, and Arby looked slightly amused. My parents didn't even acknowledge me. They just stopped abruptly in the threshold and gawked at Brandon while Bianca gave her god a very sorry look.

"Well fuck me sideways and call me 'Twisty,'" Dad exclaimed in his thick accent. "Our son is a bonafide heathen idol." Dad wrapped an arm around my stunned mother, then, being the classy guy that he was, grabbed his nuts. "I guess I have some devil juice in the family jugs, now who would'a thought?"

"Brandon?" Mom said in her meek voice. "Is it true?"

"Well o' course it's true, Mary; do you think Brandon here could manage to get this statuesque obsidian gem if he was anythin' but one o' the devil's own?" Dad cackled, gesturing to the blushing Bianca behind him. "Looked to be about two dozen o' 'em flyin' in from Drastin, or whatever the fuck Drastin is now. Hey Brandon, did you have anythin' to do with that shit? Ho-lee fuck that was a show!"

"Brandon, what's happening?" Mom was on the verge of hysterics. "Yesterday we got the news that the heathen idols had returned, and that you were one of them! I told everyone it couldn't be true, I told everyone this was all a lie spun by Tera, that whore, and then..." Mom put her head in hands.

"...then the whole fuckin' world went to shit in about thirty seconds!" Dad cackled, slapping his knees. "Was that the good sister Julia Gendian? I read about her. I like her. Good god-fearin' woman with a solid moral compass, she is, or he, or whatever the fuck it is. Got a cock bigger than a moose's, but an ego smaller than a lamb's. I bet she got sick of all the sinnin' happening in them walls, and decided to just wash it all away! Burn the heretics with fire, that'll show 'em! Glad you got out though, son."

"And this nymph girl, Night Eyes?" Mom lamented, tears in her eyes. "Is it true? Are you fornicating with her? She has... she has a penis, Brandon! Not only is this out of wedlock, but it's homosexual, it's... unnatural!"

"Oh, don't worry your sweet heart, Mary," Dad said, pulling Mom close, and kissing the top of her head. "Our son's the devil's spawn, just like them other two. They all engage in amoral debauchery because 'tis their nature. Even the good sister who tries to deny her nature is marred with the sin of her creation, and must bear the body of lecherous mutilation for all to witness her sins, say 'amen,' Mary."

"Amen," Mom whimpered.

"Now just because our boy is doomed to roast in a pit of agony until the end of creation, don't mean we can't love him, right Mary?" Dad asked.

"Amen say God!" Mom cried again.

"Amen say god," Dad reaffirmed, then grinned broadly at Brandon. "Boy, do you got some stories to tell me. I want to know about every busty devil's wench you've been sticking your father-given-gift into, starting with this hussy here," Dad pointed at me. "Just what in the hell are you, girl? You some kind of witch? Why you glowin' like that? Why you cryin', I didn't say nothing mean to you! Why you... why you..." Dad's face slowly fell, the mirth leaving it. His jaw hung open, his blue eyes widened, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. "Angie?" He whispered.

"Hi Dad," I whispered back. Mom's face went rigid, her eyes bulging, searching me frantically. Dad took one cautious step toward me like he wasn't sure if I was safe to approach. Then he sprinted at me, tears pouring from his eyes, and he scooped me up and spun me in the air, laughing and crying into my shoulder, squeezing me to the point of asphyxiation. Then Mom was holding me too, peppering my face with kisses, wetting my cheeks with her euphoria. We ended up on the floor somehow, rolling over each other, heaving and exalting. They didn't seem able to believe I was there. It was like they had to embrace me with all their might just to make sure I wasn't an apparition. They blubbered unintelligibly, but I understood. I could feel the years of grief wash from them, and from me. When I finally saw their rosy, wet faces again, I swore they looked younger. It wasn't anything Brandon had done, not directly; the haggardness that had aged them had left their complexions. The wounds in their souls had been healed.

"Thank God for you, Angie!" Dad bawled, wrapping his meaty forearm around the back of my neck.

"No," I said, smiling to my brother, who was barely holding it together in his chair, "thank Brandon."

JULIA

I'm ten years old, and Lucilla is twelve. I'm wearing the habit of sisterhood, though it will be several years before I can be confirmed as a sister of the Maternal Order. I've already said my vows though. I will not drink, I will not revel, and I will not know the touch of another. They are good vows, good rules to govern me. Not only do they bring me closer to the Holy Mother's light, but they will keep me from feeling the extremes of life, and bringing me closer to the fire.

"Sweet Mother, this is fucking boring," Lucilla yawns beside me. She has recently decided she is old enough to swear, and so enhances her sentences with curses.

"Shhh!" I hiss at her. We are in the chapel, and Mother Septina is giving her sermon. She doesn't break from her droning speech, by glowers up at Lucilla and I. Lucilla has chosen me as her charge, so I am responsible for her behavior. I feel my face grow red, and I shift uneasily in our booth.

"Who's that boy down there?" Lucilla asks.

"Good Mother, lower your voice!" I growl, giving Mother Septina an apologetic stare as her glower burns hotter. Lucilla grins at me. Gone are the days when she was beholden to Mother Septina. They'd past once Lucilla gained the ability to pull out of the mother's infamous ear-pinch. I, however, am bound to more than just the limitations of Septina's grip strength, and Lucilla enjoys getting me in trouble. I know she will be the bane of my sisterhood, but she is my best and only friend, so I'm stuck with her.

"Who is the cutie in row one?" Lucilla mercifully whispers.

"That's Brian; he's in the priesthood," I scowl at Lucilla.

"I bet I can convince him to leave," Lucilla sniggers, and purses her lips at me. Lucilla has also determined she is old enough to have a boyfriend, which as her charged sister, is alarming. Luckily, she hasn't yet pursued that avenue. Unluckily, it is only because there were so many avenues for her to pursue.

"The Holy Mother frowns on you, Lucilla," I frown.

"She's such a prude cunt."

"Lucilla!" I gasp, and all eyes in the chapel turn to me. Mother Septina stops her sermon, lowers the Maternal Path, and looks expectantly at me. Beside me, Lucilla is barely holding in her laughter, her eyes telling me I'd just walked right into her trap.

"Do you have something to add to the lesson, Daughter Gendian?" Mother Septina asks, her voice terrifyingly calm.

"No, Mother," I gulp. "Forgive me, Mother."

"See me after the service, Daughter," Mother Septina says, and I feel my heart drop. The eyes that glance back at me bear the expressions of someone watching a condemned girl, and they turn away. Mother Septina's withering glare remains, however, and she continues her sermon as though it is directed at me personally.

"Gotcha," Lucilla cackles under her breath.

"If the Good Mother is just, you will burn in hell, Lucilla," I growl beneath mine.

"I'd rather hang out with the cool kids down there, than a bunch of sack-wearing loser in heaven," Lucilla smiles.

Later that day, I am limping into my dormitory. Mother Septina had given me the paddle, and I suspected it would be a week before I could sit without a pillow beneath me. I cautiously ease myself into bed, silently cursing Lucilla with every pang that shoots up my spine. As if on cue, the perpetrator of my punishment bursts into my room. Her eyes are red with tears, and her face is flushed. She storms over to me, then collapses onto the bed, and begins to weep. I wish I could give her the cold shoulder and let her vent alone, but I can't. Some part of me is predisposed to be compassionate.