Ahaha. You know, I was just thinking the same thing. Humans like to say dragons are greedy and vain, that they hoard things selfishly, but aren't humans just as bad?
[ She shifts where she's sat a little, letting one of her legs trail into the water as she starts working the sweet smelling liquid into his hair. ]
Our cities are full of precious things we took from other places because we wanted them for ourselves. Nobles have as much money as they do because they take it from the people who were born into poorer families and pretend there's any good reason for it. We lie and cheat and steal just as much as anyone else. The only real difference is that we don't last as long. So we don't have half as much time to do as much damage.
[ Her own smile is thin, a brittle and bitter thing. ]
It wasn't as if it was my idea. I just happened to have the right spark and somebody else decided to start telling people I was a Saintess. By the time I realised what it really meant, enough people had been tricked that I knew if I tried telling the truth... They burn girls at the stake for less, you know?
[ She laughs. It's not funny. ]
So I just kept lying. It makes me just as bad as the rest of them, huh?
[ She combs her fingers through his hair in slow, soothing strokes, brushing the shells of his ears and the nape of his neck. Even though the topic has gotten so grim, her touch is still gentle. ]
Maybe I should be thanking you. Now that I'm here, I can give up pretending.
Hah... and yet despite that, you offered yourself to me for their safety. I could always raze it all to the ground, you know.
[ What a strange situation this is... here he is, having her groom his hair while talking of such a grim topic. Weirdly, though, this allows him to relax... despite the ever-present awareness of her exposed form behind him. ]
Wouldn't I be so much worse than a fake Saintess if I let you do that? I'd be some kind of dark maiden heralding the end of everything. I'm sure they'd come up with a clever name for it.
... But...
[ Her voice had been a little coy but suddenly it softens as her fingers still, lingering in his hair. ]
Even if there's ugly things there... There's still some beautiful things I wanted to protect. Even if I could never see them again... I just wanted them to be safe. So I came here.
[ Back to combing her fingers through his hair, a little gentler now, somehow. ]
To be honest... protecting those things is the only reason I decided to stay as the Saintess in the first place. I could've run away from it all, but... so long as they're safe, I can stand up to anything, no matter how scared I am.
[ He notices the change in the way her fingers run through his hair... and says nothing as she gives voice to something truly inexplicable.
Something... nostalgic.
He remembers something she had said oh so long ago, when she was still present... still alive. She'd always had such hope for other living creatures, even humans, and she'd told him once...
Something about humans when they have something to protect. ]
...well. Whatever it is, it must be quite something for you to put up with me.
[ And then, without any warning, she's leaning forwards. Loose strands of damp hair, dark and beaded with water, spill over her shoulder and onto his. She braces herself with her hands on his upper arms and just for a second, their positions really are reserved, her chest pressed gently into his back - and the worst part is, she barely seems to be aware.
Or, no. The worst part is when her lips find her way to his ear, close enough that her breath tickles against the shell, she cups her hand around her mouth as if to carry her voice right into his head. ]
It's...
[ Her voice is low and playful, a conspiratorial whisper. ]
[ His eyes widen as she leans forwards, the sensation of her chest pressed gently against his back snapping him out of the relaxed state he had just been in. They aren't big, but he'd never had a problem with that they're still enough that he can feel just how soft they are against his back.
He has to physically suppress the shudder down his spine as her lips come so close to his ear, though consequently, this results in him being stiffer than usual.
And yet despite all that build-up. ]
Wha...!?
[ He can't quite keep his composure at that point. ]
O-Oi, forget 'Saintess', I should start calling you a 'Temptress' from now on...!
[ A laugh bubbles out of her and she shifts back just a touch - enough that their bodies aren't quite pressed together anymore, even if her hair is still clinging to his shoulder. ]
What do you mean, Temptress? [ Annoyingly, her confusion here seems sincere ... But then her voice shifts a bit. ] ... Oh, hold on a second, are you really...?
[ And then she leans back in, lips against his ear once more her voice back to that breathty whisper - and even though it's accidental, her chest isn't not pressing into him again. ]
[ The first thought to come to the Mors King's mind was to teach her a lesson. Scare some respect back into her. Seriously, getting used to him is one thing, but teasing him!? Have some revere for him, damn it!
But before he can act on it... he can immediately feel it. The consequence of letting her get so close, letting her press her body against his.
She absolutely cannot see the proof that she's getting to him. That despite everything, despite their commplete difference in species... he desires her.
And so... caught in the contradicting need to stay and frighten her and the need to get the hell away from her... he promptly shifts away from her and dives into the deeper section of the bath.
[ Oh. There he goes. She could tell that maybe she was getting a little too cheeky - a little too comfortable - but was that really enough of a step too far for him to flee like that?
She stares after him uncertainly, feeling a little seed of anxiety starting to bloom in her belly. She'd started to feel... not safe, exactly, around him but at least relatively certain of what his reactions would be on most situations. If nothing else, he was reassuringly consistent.
But this is new. She can't help but wonder if she's gotten herself in trouble. ]
[ By all means, she should be in trouble. Except it's hard to think of a punishment when your head is practically boiling. Did he seriously just... bail? Run from her? Shit, something really is wrong with him.
Then, there's a low rumble throughout the room as large bubbles start to form on the surface of the water where it dips down deeper...
And suddenly, a pitch-black dragon emerges from the water. The size is on the smaller side for a dragon, but even then he's the size of a small house. ]
...
[ Slitted eyes look down at her, water running down his scales. He'd like to say that the main reason for him taking this form is to scare her... but in reality, it's just that his expression is much harder to read like this. ]
[ It happens in an instant - her demeanor snaps so hard and so fast, it's almost audible. Her smile stretches thin and brittle, her irises are rimmed with far too much white and her spine is ramrod straight. She doesn't move or scrabble back as you might expect; instead, she freezes. The terror response of a prey animal, a rabbit caught in a wolf's stare.
Would you look at that. If his plan was to scare some respect back into her, it worked perfectly. ]
Ah- I'm-
[ She fumbles with her words for a few moments, her shoulders trembling - then all at once, she drops her head into the best approximation of a bow that she can manage like this. In an instant, Ai has vanished and the girl presenting the nape of her neck as if expecting a beheading is the Saintess once again. ]
... P... Please forgive me for my presumption. I didn't mean any disrespect. It was my mistake. I won't repeat it.
[ It did exactly as intended. He looks down at her from the height of his draconic form, and he sees the fear return to her eyes. It's exactly what he meant to do.
He should be pleased... he should take a sadistic pleasure in watching her squirm. It's no wonder it worked so well. To a human, especially one such as her, his true form must be terrifying beyond all comprehension.
And yet why is it that despite the warm temperature around him... it feels as though he's just been dumped into cold water?
Except he really shouldn't be surprised, should he? In a sense, the both of them are now completely bare... and yet while her form is alluring, his is... ]
...Do well not to forget what you're dealing with.
[ He sinks into the water, briefly vanishing underneath the surface before coming back up in his more recognizable form... only resurfacing further away from her this time. ]
Yes. [ Her response is immediate - her voice small and meek. ] I understand. I'm sorry.
[ It's her own fault. She'd been so comfortable, so careless with him only moments ago and now she's rightfully paying the price - she'd forgotten her place, after all. She's a bedwarmer, a maidservant, a toy to amuse him and nothing more. He could have broken her in two last night and the fact that he hadn't was already a kindness. She'd forgotten herself, forgotten that, and tried to push her luck.
She moves at last - but only to grab the clothes he'd brought her and climb to her feet. She keeps her eyes low, submissive. ]
I'll... I'll take my leave. Please enjoy the bath.
[ She doesn't even bother to change. She just clutches her clothes to her chest even though she's surely soaking them through and - there's no other word for it - flees. ]
[ This is good. This is what he wanted. This is what their relationship is supposed to be. What it was becoming… just a result of carelessness.
His eyes watch her as she hurries out of the bath… out of the room simply clutching her clothes to her wet body. It’s cold she had complained earlier. Surely it will only be worse if she leaves like that.
…why does he care? He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t care.
[ The rest of the day goes by somehow entirely too fast and at a crawl all at once. She's shivering from cold and anxiety when she returns to their his chambers and miserably climbs back into her clothes, pulling her damp hair into a messy bun and hurrying out to - she doesn't even know what. All she can think to do is dedicate herself to the chores and errands she's been assigned, to try and prove that she's learned her lesson, she won't overstep - she understands her place here.
She's a tribute, after all. Just another bauble for his collection. She'd just forgotten for a moment. And if it hurts at all, even the slightest bit, to be reminded of that fact, well. It's her own fault.
So for the rest of the day, she cleans. She reorganizes the library. Flinches away from the Mors whenever they cross her path and does everything in her power not to get under the Mors King's feet. The last thing she needs to do is remind him of her existence.
And at the end of the day, her knees are aching from kneeling for hours. Her shoulders are sore from dusting every last inch of every last shelf and her fingers are soft and worn from hours of work. The prospect of retiring to bed should be appealing, but once again, the steadily approaching sunset ignites a long-forgotten anxiety in her belly. The one that used to burn every evening, before she'd made the mistake of assuming she understood him. She'd gotten complacent, thought that perhaps they had come to some sort of understanding... and now she's back where she started.
Part of her wants to avoid him altogether. But she knows she can't avoid her duties. So at the end of the night, she changes into one of her spare shifts and sits herself on the end of his bed, waiting for the Mors King to arrive.
She'll serve her purpose and nothing more. She won't ask questions. She won't try to understand him.
And she certainly won't allow herself to want more than that. ]
[ Something is off. Something is wrong. The Mors King is stubbornly plagued with these thoughts as he’s assailed by feelings of unease and restlessness.
He takes care to avoid her today… and even the Mors seem to shy away from her as a result. He goes for a flight outside of the castle, he lounges on his throne, and finally… he finds himself sitting in front of her portrait.
”What do I do?” he asks. There’s no response, of course there isn’t, but he asks anyway…
For whatever reason, he imagines her scolding him. Giving him that dead-eyed look of exasperation that usually comes before being chided on how impolite he is.
He expected something else. He expected her to tell him that this is good… that this is for the best… that his heart should only ever belong to her.
He wonders why it is that his memories of her are so much more vivid lately… it feels ridiculous in hindsight. The damn fairy was always so easygoing, wasn’t she? Curses are unfit to be spat from her lips, even in his memories.
Eventually, the day ends, and he retreats to their his chambers, where she sits on the bed awaiting him.
The sight is familiar. She looks just as she did on her first night here.
[ When she hears the doors swing open, it takes more of her self control than she'd like not to flinch. She doesn't turn to look at him as she usually does - the Saintess keeps her gaze fixed low on her hands folded neatly in her lap, her spine straight, her posture perfect. It's a little eerie, just how perfectly composed she is - and how obvious her fear is.
When she speaks, her voice somehow does not shake. ]
... Good evening. I... wasn't sure if you still required my presence tonight. But I didn't want you to think I'd abandoned my duties, so... if you'd prefer, I can find somewhere else to sleep.
[ Her voice is quiet, respectful. She sounds every bit the humble, contrite servant she's striving so hard to be. And the worst part is, even though it's exactly what the Saintess should have been all along... a return to this old pattern still stings, somehow. ]
[ He says nothing. His eyes lock into hers, but he says nothing. Is this really what it was like at first? This pained feeling is new, that’s for sure.
Still, he silently climbs onto the bed. He moves towards Ai… or rather, towards the Saintess she’s become once more.
[ Of course she knows what to do. Even if things are different now, all the Saintess is good for is responding to the dirty desires everyone wants to place on her. He doesn't have to ask, doesn't even have to demand - she knows what she's here for. So, she turns to face him at last - she still won't look him in the eyes - and moves across the bed over to his side.
... It's different from last night. Not least of all because she's had to find a different shift. The material isn't quite as expensive as the one she'd arrived with, but it's cut to frame her chest and shoulders, extraneous frills at the chest and the hem that brushes her thighs. In just about every sense, she's been decorated for the Mors King to enjoy. That's all she's here to provide.
But there's no way she can do that without some direction. She knows what he wants, but that doesn't mean she knows how to give it. So, the Saintess lifts her eyes just slightly, but no further than the dip of his throat. Her lashes lower, her fingers curl into her shift and her voice is quiet. Hesitant. ]
[ He still doesn’t say anything… but not by choice. It feels as though his words are caught in his throat. Nothing he thinks to say feels right, none of his jeers or teases feel apt.
So he wordlessly slips behind her, just like usual. His arms slip under hers, wrapping around her waist. She’s beautiful. It’s as he usually touches her, how he starts out at least, and at first it seems like that’s exactly what he’s going to do.
But then… his hands drop down away from her chest, instead further wrapping around her waist and pulling her close, her back to his chest. He rests his chin atop her head, a privilege afforded to him by his height, and… ]
…sorry.
[ Spoken so softly she couldn’t be blamed for not hearing it properly. ]
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[ He grumbles a little as the suds run down his face and his hair briefly covers his eyes, but he doesn't make a move to stop her. ]
Hah... not that a dragon has any right to speak on human greed and vanity.
[ She's starting up again... ugh, he's starting to really regret this. ]
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[ She shifts where she's sat a little, letting one of her legs trail into the water as she starts working the sweet smelling liquid into his hair. ]
Our cities are full of precious things we took from other places because we wanted them for ourselves. Nobles have as much money as they do because they take it from the people who were born into poorer families and pretend there's any good reason for it. We lie and cheat and steal just as much as anyone else. The only real difference is that we don't last as long. So we don't have half as much time to do as much damage.
[ Not that it stops then from trying. ]
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[ Yet weirdly... it doesn't come out like a taunt. If anything, the grin on his face is... strangely genuine. ]
Still, don't underestimate your species. Dragons have all the time in the world, but humans...
[ His grin vanishes. ]
You hardly fall short.
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It wasn't as if it was my idea. I just happened to have the right spark and somebody else decided to start telling people I was a Saintess. By the time I realised what it really meant, enough people had been tricked that I knew if I tried telling the truth... They burn girls at the stake for less, you know?
[ She laughs. It's not funny. ]
So I just kept lying. It makes me just as bad as the rest of them, huh?
[ She combs her fingers through his hair in slow, soothing strokes, brushing the shells of his ears and the nape of his neck. Even though the topic has gotten so grim, her touch is still gentle. ]
Maybe I should be thanking you. Now that I'm here, I can give up pretending.
no subject
Hah... and yet despite that, you offered yourself to me for their safety. I could always raze it all to the ground, you know.
[ What a strange situation this is... here he is, having her groom his hair while talking of such a grim topic. Weirdly, though, this allows him to relax... despite the ever-present awareness of her exposed form behind him. ]
no subject
... But...
[ Her voice had been a little coy but suddenly it softens as her fingers still, lingering in his hair. ]
Even if there's ugly things there... There's still some beautiful things I wanted to protect. Even if I could never see them again... I just wanted them to be safe. So I came here.
[ Back to combing her fingers through his hair, a little gentler now, somehow. ]
To be honest... protecting those things is the only reason I decided to stay as the Saintess in the first place. I could've run away from it all, but... so long as they're safe, I can stand up to anything, no matter how scared I am.
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[ He notices the change in the way her fingers run through his hair... and says nothing as she gives voice to something truly inexplicable.
Something... nostalgic.
He remembers something she had said oh so long ago, when she was still present... still alive. She'd always had such hope for other living creatures, even humans, and she'd told him once...
Something about humans when they have something to protect. ]
...well. Whatever it is, it must be quite something for you to put up with me.
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[ That coyness is back in her voice but this time it's warm - rather than bitter, she sounds almost playful. ]
Do you want to know what it is?
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[ God, there’s something about that tone of hers. That coy playfulness that throws him completely off his game… ]
I suppose I would… not that it would change anything, but it’d sate my curiosity.
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Alright, if you're sure.
[ And then, without any warning, she's leaning forwards. Loose strands of damp hair, dark and beaded with water, spill over her shoulder and onto his. She braces herself with her hands on his upper arms and just for a second, their positions really are reserved, her chest pressed gently into his back - and the worst part is, she barely seems to be aware.
Or, no. The worst part is when her lips find her way to his ear, close enough that her breath tickles against the shell, she cups her hand around her mouth as if to carry her voice right into his head. ]
It's...
[ Her voice is low and playful, a conspiratorial whisper. ]
... A secret. Sorry. ⭐
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he'd never had a problem with thatthey're still enough that he can feel just how soft they are against his back.He has to physically suppress the shudder down his spine as her lips come so close to his ear, though consequently, this results in him being stiffer than usual.
And yet despite all that build-up. ]
Wha...!?
[ He can't quite keep his composure at that point. ]
O-Oi, forget 'Saintess', I should start calling you a 'Temptress' from now on...!
no subject
[ A laugh bubbles out of her and she shifts back just a touch - enough that their bodies aren't quite pressed together anymore, even if her hair is still clinging to his shoulder. ]
What do you mean, Temptress? [ Annoyingly, her confusion here seems sincere ... But then her voice shifts a bit. ] ... Oh, hold on a second, are you really...?
[ And then she leans back in, lips against his ear once more her voice back to that breathty whisper - and even though it's accidental, her chest isn't not pressing into him again. ]
Are your ears ticklish, maybe?
no subject
[ The first thought to come to the Mors King's mind was to teach her a lesson. Scare some respect back into her. Seriously, getting used to him is one thing, but teasing him!? Have some revere for him, damn it!
But before he can act on it... he can immediately feel it. The consequence of letting her get so close, letting her press her body against his.
She absolutely cannot see the proof that she's getting to him. That despite everything, despite their commplete difference in species... he desires her.
And so... caught in the contradicting need to stay and frighten her and the need to get the hell away from her... he promptly shifts away from her and dives into the deeper section of the bath.
And, well... he doesn't exactly come back up. ]
no subject
[ Oh. There he goes. She could tell that maybe she was getting a little too cheeky - a little too comfortable - but was that really enough of a step too far for him to flee like that?
She stares after him uncertainly, feeling a little seed of anxiety starting to bloom in her belly. She'd started to feel... not safe, exactly, around him but at least relatively certain of what his reactions would be on most situations. If nothing else, he was reassuringly consistent.
But this is new. She can't help but wonder if she's gotten herself in trouble. ]
no subject
Then, there's a low rumble throughout the room as large bubbles start to form on the surface of the water where it dips down deeper...
And suddenly, a pitch-black dragon emerges from the water. The size is on the smaller side for a dragon, but even then he's the size of a small house. ]
...
[ Slitted eyes look down at her, water running down his scales. He'd like to say that the main reason for him taking this form is to scare her... but in reality, it's just that his expression is much harder to read like this. ]
...You've gotten a bit cheeky, haven't you?
no subject
Would you look at that. If his plan was to scare some respect back into her, it worked perfectly. ]
Ah- I'm-
[ She fumbles with her words for a few moments, her shoulders trembling - then all at once, she drops her head into the best approximation of a bow that she can manage like this. In an instant, Ai has vanished and the girl presenting the nape of her neck as if expecting a beheading is the Saintess once again. ]
... P... Please forgive me for my presumption. I didn't mean any disrespect. It was my mistake. I won't repeat it.
no subject
[ It did exactly as intended. He looks down at her from the height of his draconic form, and he sees the fear return to her eyes. It's exactly what he meant to do.
He should be pleased... he should take a sadistic pleasure in watching her squirm. It's no wonder it worked so well. To a human, especially one such as her, his true form must be terrifying beyond all comprehension.
And yet why is it that despite the warm temperature around him... it feels as though he's just been dumped into cold water?
Except he really shouldn't be surprised, should he? In a sense, the both of them are now completely bare... and yet while her form is alluring, his is... ]
...Do well not to forget what you're dealing with.
[ He sinks into the water, briefly vanishing underneath the surface before coming back up in his more recognizable form... only resurfacing further away from her this time. ]
no subject
[ It's her own fault. She'd been so comfortable, so careless with him only moments ago and now she's rightfully paying the price - she'd forgotten her place, after all. She's a bedwarmer, a maidservant, a toy to amuse him and nothing more. He could have broken her in two last night and the fact that he hadn't was already a kindness. She'd forgotten herself, forgotten that, and tried to push her luck.
She moves at last - but only to grab the clothes he'd brought her and climb to her feet. She keeps her eyes low, submissive. ]
I'll... I'll take my leave. Please enjoy the bath.
[ She doesn't even bother to change. She just clutches her clothes to her chest even though she's surely soaking them through and - there's no other word for it - flees. ]
no subject
[ This is good. This is what he wanted. This is what their relationship is supposed to be. What it was becoming… just a result of carelessness.
His eyes watch her as she hurries out of the bath… out of the room simply clutching her clothes to her wet body. It’s cold she had complained earlier. Surely it will only be worse if she leaves like that.
…why does he care? He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t care.
…He doesn’t care. ]
no subject
theirhis chambers and miserably climbs back into her clothes, pulling her damp hair into a messy bun and hurrying out to - she doesn't even know what. All she can think to do is dedicate herself to the chores and errands she's been assigned, to try and prove that she's learned her lesson, she won't overstep - she understands her place here.She's a tribute, after all. Just another bauble for his collection. She'd just forgotten for a moment. And if it hurts at all, even the slightest bit, to be reminded of that fact, well. It's her own fault.
So for the rest of the day, she cleans. She reorganizes the library. Flinches away from the Mors whenever they cross her path and does everything in her power not to get under the Mors King's feet. The last thing she needs to do is remind him of her existence.
And at the end of the day, her knees are aching from kneeling for hours. Her shoulders are sore from dusting every last inch of every last shelf and her fingers are soft and worn from hours of work. The prospect of retiring to bed should be appealing, but once again, the steadily approaching sunset ignites a long-forgotten anxiety in her belly. The one that used to burn every evening, before she'd made the mistake of assuming she understood him. She'd gotten complacent, thought that perhaps they had come to some sort of understanding... and now she's back where she started.
Part of her wants to avoid him altogether. But she knows she can't avoid her duties. So at the end of the night, she changes into one of her spare shifts and sits herself on the end of his bed, waiting for the Mors King to arrive.
She'll serve her purpose and nothing more. She won't ask questions. She won't try to understand him.
And she certainly won't allow herself to want more than that. ]
no subject
He takes care to avoid her today… and even the Mors seem to shy away from her as a result. He goes for a flight outside of the castle, he lounges on his throne, and finally… he finds himself sitting in front of her portrait.
”What do I do?” he asks. There’s no response, of course there isn’t, but he asks anyway…
For whatever reason, he imagines her scolding him. Giving him that dead-eyed look of exasperation that usually comes before being chided on how impolite he is.
He expected something else. He expected her to tell him that this is good… that this is for the best… that his heart should only ever belong to her.
He wonders why it is that his memories of her are so much more vivid lately… it feels ridiculous in hindsight. The damn fairy was always so easygoing, wasn’t she? Curses are unfit to be spat from her lips, even in his memories.
Eventually, the day ends, and he retreats to
theirhis chambers, where she sits on the bed awaiting him.The sight is familiar. She looks just as she did on her first night here.
He wonders why it is that annoys him so much. ]
no subject
When she speaks, her voice somehow does not shake. ]
... Good evening. I... wasn't sure if you still required my presence tonight. But I didn't want you to think I'd abandoned my duties, so... if you'd prefer, I can find somewhere else to sleep.
[ Her voice is quiet, respectful. She sounds every bit the humble, contrite servant she's striving so hard to be. And the worst part is, even though it's exactly what the Saintess should have been all along... a return to this old pattern still stings, somehow. ]
no subject
[ He says nothing. His eyes lock into hers, but he says nothing. Is this really what it was like at first? This pained feeling is new, that’s for sure.
Still, he silently climbs onto the bed. He moves towards Ai… or rather, towards the Saintess she’s become once more.
She knows what to do. ]
no subject
... It's different from last night. Not least of all because she's had to find a different shift. The material isn't quite as expensive as the one she'd arrived with, but it's cut to frame her chest and shoulders, extraneous frills at the chest and the hem that brushes her thighs. In just about every sense, she's been decorated for the Mors King to enjoy. That's all she's here to provide.
But there's no way she can do that without some direction. She knows what he wants, but that doesn't mean she knows how to give it. So, the Saintess lifts her eyes just slightly, but no further than the dip of his throat. Her lashes lower, her fingers curl into her shift and her voice is quiet. Hesitant. ]
...What... should I do to satisfy you this time?
no subject
So he wordlessly slips behind her, just like usual. His arms slip under hers, wrapping around her waist.
She’s beautiful.It’s as he usually touches her, how he starts out at least, and at first it seems like that’s exactly what he’s going to do.But then… his hands drop down away from her chest, instead further wrapping around her waist and pulling her close, her back to his chest. He rests his chin atop her head, a privilege afforded to him by his height, and… ]
…sorry.
[ Spoken so softly she couldn’t be blamed for not hearing it properly. ]
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