https://youtu.be/aoJ-NYeuxGk?si=qjQqw93lb3FibIkL
Kyuu was tempted by that invitation. The tallest tower. The highest. She was drawn to it because it was hard to miss but along the way she had helped herself to a shirt, a skirt. Taken a pair of boots from someone else. She is smol, yes. But also lacking in any real morals. She takes what she needs and cares not for whence it came. Thus, she arrives at Windgrace tower mostly dressed, mostly human, but just enough not that people are giving her wide berth. She made her way through the lobby, found a likely elevator, and would have gone exploring if security hadn’t stopped her. She was disdainful, annoyed even. But she dropped Drystan’s name and so he knows who will be walking through those doors when they open.
Ding!
The fox steps through, head tilts so that she can look back toward the box she’d just left. Someone.. is slumped in there. Someone in the tower’s uniform. At least.. there is no splatter of blood? Glancing back around, the fox links her fingers behind her back and just gives the eldest Windgrace an ever so innocent look.
The elevator doors close behind her.
Drystan Windgrace had gotten the call that a strange young woman had said she was coming to see him, and he'd laughed, and told security to play nice with her. He stopped what work he had been doing and made his way across the long office space and lounge, and went behind the bar, pulling two glasses out, pouring himself a nice heft of amber colored liquid - when DING! The elevator opened. He didn't peer around the corner, not yet, he was slipping the end of a lit cigarette from his lips and exhaling before taking a drink from his crystal. He missed the slumped guard in the elevator and only looked over when she stepped forward enough and met eyes with that innocent look. A look alright, he could feel her mischievousness as if she wore it on her sleeve. He gave her a quick look up and down at how she was dressed and shook his head a bit.
"You would punish yourself if you knew how you looked to yourself." Strange statement, but it was the truth. The last he had seen of them, they were robbed in the finest of materials, and though old and fading - was still the absolute picture of highest fashion. Drystan had learned quite a bit about it, and how it changed how people looked at him. He picked up all the tips and tricks Kyuu the First he had known had given him. "I'll have to have some wardrobes delivered to wherever it is you call home. Gifts from ...yourself." He smacked his lips lightly and turned back picking up the decanter, "Would you care for a drink Kyuu?" He lifted a brow and waited for her reply. He still had that warmth about him that he'd had before, old friend, new friend. history, but out of order likely. He could help her and would help her with all of it. It was his duty to her former self after all.
A drink. Kyuu eases closer to Drystan, hips swishing back and forth as she is a bit unsteady in the high boots she’d stolen. She curls her toes in the boots and vaguely wishes for her paws. But she has had it ingrained into her head that she needs to appear as human as possible – and so she has made a valiant effort. The discomfort, however, is real. Sniffing toward the liquid that Drystan has poured, her mind is blissfully empty of a cascade of memories – for the moment. She has no idea what it is he is serving. But she chirps, “Sure!” and eases herself onto a stool. Swinging her feet, she accidently thumps the bar but that just makes her look down curiously and do it again before drawing her gaze back up toward the man. “Myself?” there is a blank look and then, “Oh. Mother.” She furrows her brow slightly, glances away. Then back over at him. “I am not staying anywhere. I live in a cave. Or the cottage. Or I just find a hallow for a nap. That is harder now though.. I cannot go small anymore. Cali thinks it's because I need to figure out how to be .. this.” She gestures at herself half heartedly. “I don’t see why I have to. It's uncomfortable. There is no fur and you have to wear things to stay warm.”
Drystan Windgrace laughs a bit. He shakes his head and set the crystal tumbler down in front of her and pours it half full with Bourbon. He sets down the decanter and slips the crystal pug in its top and pushes a crisp pack of cigarettes her way as well, silently offering her whatever he has. He tilted his head lightly and said , "Mother... huh. yes, I suppose so." He flattened his mouth and formed a line, tapping a claw against his glass. "You have a place in the city, you..just don't know about it yet. That time will come. For now though, you have a room, in this tower, though, below it. Should you want to stay. It's not any sort of burrow, but it's better than some random spot. Safer by far as well, though I'm sure you can take care of yourself."
Kyuu nods at Drystan, head tilting to the side as she watches his expression. “Yes. I am aware that she is me and I am her.” She pauses, considering that, “But I don't have many of her memories. Just..” she lifts a hand and rubs her temple, “Fragments. It feels like I have a thousand people inside of me, clambering for my attention. I keep pushing it away. It's too much.” Her hands lift and she makes a warding gesture. “But my dreams are really wild.” Eyes narrow slightly and she looks at him intently, “How well did you know me? I must have trusted you a lot if you know so much about me.” The offer of an abode draws hesitation from her. “There are roofs. And places all over that I can hide in.”
“Of course there are. Dirty little holes that don’t belong to you, escaping from one place to the next because you want to explore, you want to be on your own, you’ve grown too old for the protection of the bassinet of the faelands.” He waved his hand about and then took a drag from the cigarette, ashing it in the metal tray before him. “But there will be a time when you want somewhere that is your own. No one else's, not even the past versions of you.” He spied her softly and nodded his head as she described how jumbled her mind was. “I can’t blame you for wanting to just push it aside. The mind is a big confusing place. But…you are right. I knew you. I knew you quite well I like to think. We shared many things in common, You taught me a great deal about myself, and the world around us. I …helped give shelter before, you accepted. So, it’s not out of character for me, at least.” He smiled and took a drink, leaning his hip against the backside of the bar. “I like to think you trusted me a great deal, and that I was special in that way, trust for a fox…a kitsune, a godling? Can’t come easy.”
A soft hmm is offered to Drystan as he recounts the likely holes she might find herself within. “The wylds feel restless and both of my fathers are looking at me differently now. I think I stir memories. And .. hunger. Yes. That feels right. Hunger.” She muses on that, thinking about the hunger she herself has felt in her existence. A hunger that does not gnaw at her like it once did. Her eyes flick up toward his face when he names her a god, though a youthful one. There is a squirm as she settles on her seat and then she lifts her chin. “I must have. So you will be what.. a friend? Now? “ she eyes him carefully. She then reaches out to grab her glass and pulls it toward her. She then lifts it to sniff and tips the goblet back to taste the smokey liquid within. She promptly sets the cup down and then lifts her hand to her lips, startled at the sensation as it warms her throat. It takes her a moment to work past that but then she asks him in a breathy tone, words carrying a hint of strain, “What .. did we have in common? Tell me about us. Maybe I will .. remember.?”
The frown comes to his face despite his carefully crafted demeanor when she mentioned ‘fathers’ and ‘hunger’. However it was gone in an instant and replaced with a toothsome grin, spreading his hands apart. “I will be your friend, should you care for that, I intend to be your mentor, and guide. I was tasked with helping you through this trying time…to help you find yourself, to assist in any way I can to your becoming.” He dropped his hand and shrugged lightly. “However easy you’d like that process to be, is entirely up to you. I have answers to questions that have yet to form in your mind. But they will come.” He smirked a little and stepped around the bar, to stand closer to her seated on the stool. He held his drink and smoke in one hand and offered the other to her, palm upwards as she asked one of many of those very questions. With a hand offered, he softens his voice and tilts his head so that he can level his eyes from under his brow at her. “I can tell you, but I can also show you. You have…abilities. I’m not sure what all they are to be honest, but if you are anything like you were, you will find illusion and the power of the mind will come quickly to you. I happen to have the ability to help you see, and feel, and experience things for yourself. It is perfectly safe, your body remains here, simply our thoughts will connect, and I can take you to those memories. Make up your own mind instead of taking my word for it.”
Fearless. The kit has never known true fear. Even when some forest monster has swallowed her whole, she has simply chewed her way out, eaten the creature who has thought to make a meal of her. She stares down at Drystan’s hand and considers it. Her mind whispers warnings. Wants. Memories of fears. Uncertainty. But she has faith in herself. In the creature she was before. So with little hesitation, she lifts her own smaller hand and slips it within his grasp.
Her palm is dry, soft, but so very warm. Feverish almost to the touch, and yet she is not flushed. Metal tipped fingers slide across his palm, so sharp that even the light press of the motion slices across that outer layer of skin, small lines left like bloodless grooves – at least until he heals them away. Tilting her head up she blinks at him then smiles a little. “I do not like easy.” She confides, quietly. “I like it rough.” For a moment, there is someone else staring at him through her eyes, taking his hand. But then it fades and the kitsune clarifies, “You don’t learn if you don’t make mistakes.”
He doesn't flinch as his skin is opened, but they seal shut just as quickly, and instead he claps her hand in his, encircling it with his own gently giving it a light squeeze. He lifts a brow when she speaks and his smile curls a bit as a fun sparkle catches his eye from the aether now clearly visibly encircling him, flowing about him. She would see the world more clearly, him more plainly. His third eye would slide open, bright yellow and purple irises filling it as it blinked softly at her. His skin tone would shift and swirl as the inky corruption patterns rose from his skin, and the scars in ashen layers revealed the patterns of eyes as well. Barely visible were the array of hands she had seen before. His hair changed to shorter, his beard disappeared. All around them the penthouse office transformed into a small old store, wooden walls, a jaunty store front filled with instruments and old style records and music players, a piano tucked into a corner. Music began to play behind them, and his dress changed to something older, out of style, but proper. Kyuu could look around this scene where they had shared much. See every detail. Up his arm that held her hand were the sealing wounds of a rather large bite that had been taken from his forearm. They were standing close to one another, swaying to music, his eyes closed and his head tilted back as the memory played asif it were the here and now. Her mouth would feel bloody, the taste still there but the meat having just been swallowed. It was here he took Kyuu, to the beginning of their blossoming friendship, and whatever more it was. An exchange, an understanding. She needed to eat, and he relished in the hedonistic sensations.
That memory is brought so clearly to Kyuu. The taste of him that teases at the then near insatiable hunger that rides her. The want to bite again, to gorge herself on what is offered. And the heat – she was in heat. She was always a creature of the flesh, be it feasting or fornicating. All of those needs are awakened in the fox and she gives herself over to the memory, reveling in the sensations and groaning, much as she had then as her belly welcomes that first taste of him. “You are divine.” She murmurs, sounding drunk. “Flush with the blessings of your deity..” the fox looks up at his face, golden gaze fixed as she sways with him. She presses herself against him, body arching deliciously as she revels in the power that the feeding alone fills her with.
Drystan in memory, lolls his head face forwards as he sways her back and then up again, slowly dragging heavenly lidded eyes to hers. “I have been touched by my Patron.. And .. abide his chaotic influence.” He sounded a bit drunk, and that was due to the Kitsune’s blood. Everything was more intense, but lucidity was also influenced by her illusions taking over the shop, the “closed” sign flipped and darkened windows. He was as much affected by her as she was by him in each their own way.
He slid his hand from hers and slipped it along her cheek, her jaw, gently turning her head towards his arm again as he slid his hand through her hair and let it drape over her shoulder. “Take what you want… I can handle it.” His forehead dropped to lean on hers, the sound of heartbeats and blood flowing filling his ears to the sound of the classical music.
It does not take much to convince the fox to feed. She is so hungry and this? This flesh fills her in ways that she could never explain. Her head tilts into the slide of his hand then lolls to the side, toward his extended arm. She is reverent in her second approach, tongue tasting the skin untouched before sliding through the mess that remains from whence she has bitten. She rubs her face in the tissue as it repairs itself, straining the growth and damaging the meat even as it attempts to reform. Her fangs sink into his arm and with it comes the sheer bliss of her bite – sharp – erotic. This is not a drug, like some Pixie, but a release that usually comes with way more foreplay. She bites and then bites again, tearing chunks from the meat of his forearm. Losing herself to the need. There are no words. She could not speak if she wanted to. There is only soothing the flame within her gut.
His mouth opened and he bared his monstrous teeth as he seethed, while she buried her mouth into the open wound, that was till she sank her teeth in to take hold of his arm muscle again. The seething turns into a gasp of breath, and to keep himself on his feet as he momentarily falls into her and to bear his weight before catching himself. He caught his breath and his other hand grabbed at the back of her head, woven into her dark hair, tightening as the feeling webbed through him, panged away as hot flashes in his guts, the pain itself rolling up and down his spine only to bottom out and surge back to his brain. The music played on, and Drystan somewhat stepped and stumbled back into the heavy wooden shelves of records, finding that leaning himself into that was easier than standing on his own. His breath came quicker as she feasted, and he felt the strains of his arm trying to heal against it, stitching and pulling at itself, weaving and growing and curling, the blood though - that he could control more masterfully. There were no huge spurts to spray around, no big globs to drip - it was a discrete amount. He had already tightened off his veins in that arm, constricted them down considerably, and redirected its flow to other more needing parts of himself. He could lose the whole arm, and not feel a bit woozy - other than how woozy she was making him feel.
There is an art to enjoying such a meal as what Drystan is offering the fox. A way to savor each morsel and yet extend the feeding. She need not consume all of him when what is offered can feed her well. When he stumbles, she braces him. When he falls back against the shelves she lifts her bloodied face to place a sweet kiss upon his chin, his cheek. To whisper at the edge of his mouth and leave a taste of himself there. She bends her head again to nip at his neck then lean down again and tease the raw edges of her meal with tongue and tooth again. The control in this moment is outstanding - but slipping. She has killed so many unwary humans thus far .. the urge to stop is waning. Still. As yet? She keeps to the arm he has offered her, working her way to the bone and then easing back to watch it heal, only to delve in again, and again and again.. and again…
Drystan is in somewhat of a trance, it's a heady sort of thing, being lulled to closing his eyes and falling away with the feelings flooding him, and then to come back to the bite of her fangs, the tearing of flesh from him. Only to be plunged back under the surface tension her own venom elicited. He groaned and licked at his lips, tasting his blood. That made his hair stand on end and waves of gooseflesh to wander across him. The arm being fed upon, its hand gripped at the edge of the bookcase and was pulled taught to his shoulder that leaned back into the shelves. He let his grip on her hair go and slid his hand down her back, to rest on her slim hip, right above the curve of her ass. He pulled her to him, to press against him, and that his knee would push between her legs, both of them bracing onto each other.
In the background, the record began to skip as the needle wandered to the end of the recording. Out of nowhere, one of the records near his head flew from the case and was dumped from its slip folder, and exchanged with the one that had been playing. He was able to still have a fine level of telekinetic control, despite his state. The new music played, a lonely jazzy piano, slow and melodic.
Lips move in a silent hymn as the kitsune revels in the sacrifice that Drystan is giving to this fox godling. There is a deep sense of contentment, a healthy dose of lust, and while the hunger is slowly being pushed away, the darker passions of the creature now pressed firmly against Drystan’s frame come out to play. She watches the exchange of records and actually chuckles softly. “That is a challenge, you know.” Her hand lifts to wrap about his arm, squeezing across the torn flesh. She then strokes his forearm like it is something else though the sensation she is seeking to elicit from him has nothing to do with pleasure. She wants his agony. Her eyes lift to watch his face, one leg lifting to inch up his thigh while the rest of her body rests against his. “A man shouldn’t be able to concentrate when he is being ravished.”
He blinks and looks down at her, unsure of how to respond immediately. Before he has the chance though, she is tightening her grip on him and raking across the healing wound. He clenches his teeth and looks down at the action, his arm quaking under her rough movement. He finally opens his mouth and looks up at the ceiling, a loud cry coming from him, pained and broken that ends in a whimper as he tries to breathe through it. He leans his head back into the shelf and lets his mouth hang open while he gathers his bearings, and pulls his hand over her ass and under it to lift her thigh higher, as the pain washes into a rueful smile and his gasps become a slow chuckle. “I’m no ordinary man, clearly..” He swallows and pants more as his top lip curls up. “Had your fill then?” He’s sweating, but it doesn't seem to bother him that much.
“Mmm.” Kyuu makes a noncommittal sound, “Of one hunger. But I have many.” She clenches her hand about his arm again, using the blood that he has allowed to leak free as lubricant. She pumps her fist over the injury slowly to draw out the agony. He has her rapt attention; she is caught completely by the songs he sings and the gasps he takes. “Perhaps I like to play, especially with creatures who are far from ordinary.” Her hips shift and grind against his, a tease of sensation. A reward. Her other hand lifts and gold tipped fingers spread across his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath it. “You.. are exquisite.” She isn’t asking him if he wants her to stop. He’d have stopped her already.
“Aauuughh!” He yells out again and thrashes a bit under her, his body jerking in place. He wasn't stopping her, or going anywhere however. If anything it was lighting a fire in his belly. With his free hand he grabbed at the underside of her ass and dug his claws in, and pulled at her in order to spread her apart and push his thigh firmly against her. He then quickly wrapped his arm around her waist as he pushed his face in against hers, moving his mouth against her ear as he moaned at the pain pulsing from his arm and up through his shoulder. His breath was hot and voice sticky as it rushed across her skin, guttural from the back of his throat. “Oh…I enjoy your games though…” He clenched his teeth down around the lobe of her ear and wrapped his lips around it as he used it as a clamp to grunt through the pain again. He took her compliment and it fired into his more vain elements, the ones Dinah would usually coax out of him. Dragging his mouth across from her ear he took her mouth against his and kissed her as hard and deeply as he could.
Around them, the world shimmered, as if to remind that this was a memory, that this was out of time. Drystans eyes opened as he kissed the godling, giving himself as a token to her power, and taking from her the overwhelming pleasures she created for him. His eyes were wide, and there came a small rustle of a voice, inside Kyuu’s mind, a careful whisper. /”...do you need to know more of this moment? We have others… but you have this memory. It is yours as well my dear.”/ He did not want to startle or ruin the moment with his minds voice.
The memory was incredibly intense, it had taken the young Kyuu over entirely. In the throes of remembering, she had taken a seat in the back row of the theatre of her mind, made popcorn, and was avidly watching the show. It’s the past. It’s new. It is both to the kitsune. The whisper in her mind is what brings her awareness of herself back to the here and now. She blinks, blinks again, then closes her eyes. She finds herself in the same state as the memory had placed her – hot, sated, and yet still needy. She feels sensitive. Perhaps overly so. Pulling back, she attempts to slip back from the shared moment so that she might look up at Drystan. “Ah.” This is like the understatement of the year. “That kind of friend.”