Harmless

[Skie and Avery]

Every kiss and movement was the redemption of good deeds left undone. Victor's arms were a safe haven, and she had wanted this to last beyond just the evening, past the nearly-set sun that had been peaking at their pleasures. It had cast a wash of golden light into the bedroom window, a metallic paintbrush that caught the gleaming sweat drops that traveled down their skin. Their breaths, hot and needful to breath each other in, fogged in the chill that was coming with nightfall, but the two had more than enough to keep each other warm. Beyond the rushing blood of their bodies, there was something else growing in the heat.

Skie's eyes, so darkly indigo, were filled with racing points of stardust as she closed them. It was not to imagine any other that she did so, no face or form but the boxer's danced behind her eyelids. Instead, it was to keep back the tears that threatened to fall as each stroke of their hips was like a prod to a fire already threatening to spill out of the hearth. It was beautiful, these moments, and she knew why the Moontae now called themselves the Beauty. Nothing like this could be evil or demonic. It was true that they had only known each other for this one day, but the connection felt so much heavier. It was beyond the feeble grasp of desire but the sheer weight of what this man had come to mean to her in such a short time that pulled against her heart.

The difference between Skie and the rest of the Beauty was the blood of Devon dan Sabriel.

It broke all the rules, connections like this. The Beauty didn't get attached. They came together for pleasure; love was unimportant because they had love for all. Skie, however, and her heart, held something human. It was Devon's greatest gift, the ability to know true hate or love. In his embrace, kept safe and needed, Skie let every movement of her body say everything that was needed. As she pulled him closer, her fingers lacing through the thick, short locks of his hair, she found her voice rising with the tension in her body.

"Victor, please." she begged, her voice breathy, her eyes opening to behold him. Her pleas turned his eyes upwards, his lips still locked around the fleshy nub he had claimed as a prize, his teeth barely grazing the tip as if to ask 'Yes?'

"Please," she repeated, bending her neck so that her lips could brush against his forehead along the hairline. "Please don't stop." Her words seemed to throw oil on the already raging flames, and his hands slid from her back where they had been cradling her to her hips so that he could hold her in his muscular grasp and control the motion of their bodies. They worked together, their movements slowing but his strokes coming deeper, grinding and rocking as she sobbed and moaned against him. They held each other so close that Skie began to wonder if they really could be one person, that if her cheek against his might just melt through the skin and she could see everything inside him. She knew she would love it, that in the last hours she loved him. The blossom of knowledge unfolded in her mind, and she tried to slow their fall into the deep white light of orgasm, because when it was all over she would lose him as their daily currents ripped them apart to different lives.

Out the window, the first stars of the night had begun to twinkle feverishly in the dusky cloak of the sky. A single pinprick of pure white slowed in it's flicker. As Skie began to gasp, her body tensing and then unfurling in the force of her climax, she called a single name. "Victor." Her eyes opened, meeting his, and the sputtering star outside began to fall. The answering lights in her cobalt gaze started to fall and fade, leaving nothing but the matte expanse of blue, flecked here and there with earthly brown. It was Devon's greatest curse, the Slaying of Stars, the taking of souls. As she shuddered against him, her voice ripped from her throat as everything seemed to contract and explode in a dizzying burst, he took the back of her head in one hand and pulled her lips to meet his.

That simple kiss was the Architect of her Destruction, and somehow some of his.

In a flash, she saw inside him. Shadows pulled against his heart, a solid man with solid Faith, brought down by a small collection of cursed cells pulled the darkness around the prizefighter's soul. The pain and suffering of a struggling woman, of three struggling women to maintain their feeble family had scored itself in him, and there, the great background of it all was a fourth woman. Her words had been so powerful, especially her goodbye. The very absence of her had turned Victor's heart upon itself, drenched it with something dark and terrible. The thoughts that had lingered in his mind a thousand lonely nights before assaulted her, and she tried to save herself against the storm of truly tasting Victor's soul. She tried not to look too deep, the more she saw, the more she was threatened with actually seeing what he felt for her, and she was sure it would come up lacking with this special love she had for him.

She'd taken a soul before, slain Seth Dahlios' star in a moment of passion, but a moment of rage. It had been so different. She knew the terrible things that the Hex Mage had done, and was, and the loving things he'd done them for. She'd taken his star in hate, but somehow walked away a shaky ally. Now she had tasted the very core of someone in love, and found it was far more terrifying than the rage she'd felt for Dahlios.

And with that fear permeating, she was out of his soul, her gaze again to the room, where he still held her tight. It had been the fraction of a moment that she'd been gone within the confines of his memories and intentions. She lowered her face to his again in a kiss, this time breathing out, letting him take back what was his. She didn't want his soul, didn't want to Slay him. It was less violent this time than when she'd returned Seth's soul to him. She didn't vomit it, but kissed it into him. Exhaustion from their lovemaking and from the sheer depth of what she'd seen within him was draining her, and she let her body relax against his. She buried her head in his shoulder, grasping him with the intensity that she'd hold to a life raft that was bringing her out of the fearsome deep, and kissed and nibbled her way up his neck and to his lips. There, with the brush of her mouth on his, she whispered the only thing she could find to say in all the weighted emotions of her heart.

"You're a good man, Victor."

[The Cinderella Man]

They haven’t reached their climax together – such synchronization occurred only in bawdy tales – but it was a close call. For once her body started to shudder, and her muscles convulsed, and she cried out his name as her pleasure peaked... Well, there was only so much a mortal man could take. But just then the strangest thing happened, and for a man who had ridden a gigantic sea behemoth and fought against an army of mindless village folk, that meant something was seriously amiss.

Skie kissed him.

It was something she had done countless times in this little bed skirmish of theirs, but this time there was something terrifying in the touch of her lips. It was like kissing a cold barrel of a gun, tasting the death and the nothingness that was only inches away. It lasted no longer then a blink of an eye, this uncanny sensation, but in that fraction of a second Victor Callahan felt vacant. It was as if somehow, with the passion they exchanged, a large part of him departed as well. He was still himself, he could still think, he could still feel their sticky bodies clinging to each other. Even the hunger for the succubus was still there, as unreasonable and vibrant as the moment he kissed her for the first time. Only in that brief moment in time, it all felt so empty, so meaningless, so forlorn. It felt like standing on the edge of a canyon, ready to throw yourself into the chasm below.

But then, just as suddenly as this feeling robbed Victor of the full power of life, it gave everything back. And the contrast between the two amplified everything almost tenfold. After gazing into this empty abyss, every color, every sound, every single thing he felt at the moment somehow had more gravity, as if his senses suddenly became more acute. It felt like watching the world through a different set of eyes, ones that were open to things he never saw before.

The simple-minded boxer didn’t know what happened. He assumed it had something to do with Skie and her heritage, but right then and there he didn’t want to know the specifics. She was embracing him, so warm and gentle and smooth that it almost made him weep, so beautiful that he was ready to admit that she was a goddess and fight anybody who dared to state otherwise. His lips touched her forehead, his fingers running through her hair, leaning her head back on his shoulder. Once again, no words came to him, and once again, no words were needed. Their bodies told their own tale today, united in a quest for the ultimate sensation two people could share. And they told it well, leaving them spent and drifting away on the wings of satisfaction.

***

A whiff of wintry night wind reminded Victor that they had forgotten to close the window, waking the man up with a caress of icy fingers. The world was still veiled in blackness outside, with only the east giving in to the dark purplish hue that announced the inevitable arrival of the sun. The blanket that covered the pair of entangled bodies slipped almost down to their waists, leaving them to the mercy of the chill. Yet Victor didn’t mind that much. Even in the dim light and the coldness he could appreciate the view of the beauty in his arms. Her usually smooth skin was covered with the tiniest goosebumps, and when he ran his fingers over it, it made the woman fidget in his arms and embrace him even tighter. This was so endearing that it drew a smile on his face. He realized that he wouldn’t mind waking up to this every morning.

And then he remembered what exactly the two of them were.

They were strangers, brought together by auspicious circumstances, brought together by fate that decided to give them a moment worth of reprieve. A moment. No more. There was no tomorrow for them. They weren’t about to wake up and walk out of the inn holding each other’s hand and whispering sweet words of love. Regardless of how much Victor craved for something like that, it would’ve been a delusion think of the night they shared as more then just an opportune encounter. Skie was a succubus, a creature prone to these little escapades. The prizefighter was certain that, come morning, she would regret ever succumbing to the bodily desires. So he decided to intercept the morning.

He crept out of the bed as stealthily as he could, untangling himself from her embrace with the gentlest touches his hands could muster. When he succeeded in doing so without waking her up, he pulled the blanket over her sleeping form and tiptoed towards the bathroom. He didn’t dress too hastily – there was still a part of him that wanted this to be more then just a one-night stand – but soon enough he was fully dressed, standing at her bedside, looking at her blissful serenity. It felt wrong to leave without a goodbye, he knew. But what he knew even better was that, if she woke up and looked up at him with those enchanting eyes of hers, if she spoke all the words he wanted to hear and let her body emanate that mind-shattering scent again, it would be twice as hard to leave.

Leaning towards her sleeping visage, Victor kissed her cheek, his lips caressing her with velvety tenderness. He didn’t move away immediately, though. Instead, he took one final breath of her, one final breath of her skin and sweat and magic that gifted him one of the best nights of his life. And with that scent still infesting his system, he walked away.

[Skie and Avery]

Skie woke with a small smile pulling at the edges of her lips. The last time she could remember being this cold and happy at the same time had been as a child, playing in the first snows of winter with her brother. Now there was the same promising chill in the air, whispering of frost along the windows and the transformation of raindrops into fluffy sprinklings of snow, but the times had changed. Instead of laying curled in her familiar Concordian home, the rickety bed that had served as her nest for the past couple nights cradled her. Rather, she thought as she heard the light shuffling of clothing in the bathroom, the bed was just a pedestal for the divine art of the cradle she'd been held in. Victor Callahan might just be the average everyman to himself and those who passed by him, but to Skie he'd become something a little more.

His lips brushed her cheek and she almost told him 'Good Morning.' However, it didn't take more than a few moments to tell that something was about to go very wrong. She expected him, after that, to slide back under the covers. She could understand about not wanting to be naked for too long; she too felt the itch to at least pull her shirt on against the cold and the mere unfamiliarity of laying bare before another. He did not, however, move to reclaim his side of the bed. She felt him pull back, his breaths tickling along her neck, and then the sound of booted feet walking towards the door.

"Don't go..." she managed to say, her voice breaking as she sat up, pulling the blanket up to cover herself. It was nothing more than a whisper, but she could feel the gravity it held within her own heart. With her hand wrapped around the wool, she could keep it from shaking and letting off all the fear she felt for this moment. Her wing behind her however, huddled feebly against her back, trembling nearly in time with her racing heart.

Skie didn't know what she intended to do, or even say. She was standing at the edge of something she couldn't understand. She knew it was silly to call him back, that sitting up at that moment could have possibly have been the worst thing for her to do. What could possibly have come from it? She could cut open all this silly skin, and let him see exactly what she saw in him and exactly what she felt for everything he'd done and said and was, and she knew he would stand in the doorway, his muscled back to her, and never turn around.

She could spread all the love she'd managed to find and it still would be so tiny compared to the cold hard facts. No stars had crossed, only fallen. They might have shared this one night, this one moment where they knew such rare harmony, but it would only be one night. They could never be together.

He was only a few fatal footsteps away, but he might have been five thousand miles.

"Just stay," she said again, that stubborn longing to have his arms around her overpowering the knowledge that they were too far apart in so many ways to really think this could work. Tears were threatening to spill, though she blinked through thick lashes to keep them at bay. "Please, Victor, until morning? Goodbye is so much easier in the sunlight."

How could something so harmless as that long pause of silence hurt so much?

[The Cinderella Man]

Skie’s voice was everything he didn’t want to hear right now, a lasso thrown around his heart, pulling him back into her arms. And yet, at the same time, it was everything he did want to hear. He didn’t even have to turn his head to look at her to feel the temptation coaxing him, breaking his resolve and begging him to yield to her request. Of course he wanted to stay. At this moment, standing here and staring at the door, there was nothing Victor wanted more then to feel her warmth once again. But he knew the repercussions of such an action. He would crawl underneath her sheets again and they would try to replay all the kisses and moans and sweet little nothings they whispered into each other’s ears, for their passion was hardly spent yet. And they would be in their own personal heaven again, floating in each other’s arms as their bodies became one. But then the morning would come – all too soon as it always did – and parting would become even more difficult.

“No, it would be even more difficult in the morning and you know it,” the boxer responded, still stubbornly peering at the door as if there was something more interesting in the pattern of its wood then a half-naked vixen, freshly awoken. He turned around eventually, though – Skie deserved a proper goodbye instead of a cold shoulder. His eyes met her pleading look as silence once again descended into the room like a floating sheet of black silk. The black-haired woman looked perhaps more beautiful then ever, with her hair unkempt and wild after a passionate night and her face so amorous and almost angelic. It was like a magnet, but while it succeeded in drawing Victor away from the door and back to her bedside, it still lost the battle with his determination.

“Goodbye, beautiful Skie,” the prizefighter told her as his fingers grazed her cheek. The words and the caress were the harbingers of the proper goodbye, a long, gentle kiss he planted on her lips. He was playing with fire, he knew, and it threatened to scorch his resolve with the heat of her lips. But before her hands managed to embrace him, pull him closer, he pulled away.

Every step he took as he walked away from her filled his head with more and more thoughts. He wanted to break into a sprint and run away from the temptation. He wanted to kiss her again. And again. He wanted to linger just a while longer, just so she asked him to stay again. If she did that, if she raised her voice once again and uttered the same pleading words, he was ready to give in to her request. He was walking a thin line here, reluctant to go one way or the other. But when the doors of her room opened before him and closed behind him, and there were no words to be heard, Victor knew it was over. It made him sigh as he stood with his back to the closed door, but whether it was a sigh of sorrow of relief, he couldn’t say.

It was better this way, he assured himself as he made his way down the creaking stairs of the inn. It was better to have one night of burning passion then a hundred of diluted affection that died a little every day. And it was better for Skie as well that she didn’t get involved with the likes of him. She perhaps wasn’t an innocent, wide-eyed lass, but she still deserved better then a wandering pugilist who couldn’t even get into a sanctioned bout. There were better men out there that could offer her so much more. She would forget all about him in a fortnight, and rightfully so; Victor Callahan wasn’t the kind of a person that got his name into history books.

With this intricate delusion that he formed in his head, Victor walked through the foyer of the inn – where the old crone of an innkeeper dozed with her head on the reception desk – and out into the streets, feeling a bit better. If his loss was someone’s gain, then perhaps he was at least good for something. Outside, the streets were still asleep under the gray cover of the night that neared its end. He half expected to see Skie on the windowsill, but there was nothing to be seen except curtains thrown around by the draft. And when he started to walk in a random direction and away from the inn, he could’ve sworn that he heard her voice calling him, but the wooden wheels of a passing wooden carriage were so loud that he was certain it was only his mind playing tricks on him. So he kept his feet moving, his eyes looking at the Radasanth streets, but seeing a different world altogether. In that world, Skie was in his arms and tonight was just the beginning of something more.

Daydreaming was always such a bittersweet refuge for Victor Callahan.

[Skie and Avery]

His kiss was just as divine as each one that had come before it, though this one held something precious in it. It was that bittersweet tang of final things, the last bite of a favorite food, the last warm night of autumn, and the last parting kiss of two people who would much rather not have to say goodbye at all. He had turned back and she thought that would be enough, but then he was gone again, the door clicking shut quietly.

He had left her alone to the night. It was with that realization that she began to cry, hot tears spilling down her cheeks and pattering softly onto the blanket that covered her legs. She felt silly for crying over someone she had just met, but somewhere in her heart, as she'd fallen asleep with her head on his chest, she'd been convinced that this was the start of something beautiful. How could it not have been? Skie dan Sabriel was not a person who really opened herself up to many people, but it seemed that Victor had known exactly how to unlock every last little doorway. She dried her cheeks bitterly, sniffling past the next temptation to continue her tears, and stood.

The curtains had been whipping balefully ever since he left, as if the very winds outside were chastising them for missing the point completely. Now, she stared at them, wondering idly where she'd last left her clothes, when her common sense gave her a sound smacking across the back of her head. Not bothering to look for her shirt, she wrapped the blanket around her chest and stumbled to the window.

He hadn't gotten far yet. She could see him walking back along the piers, towards the direction she'd meandered in the day before. She'd been looking for a good fight to test herself with, and somehow had gotten more than she had bargained for. She called his name again, her voice breaking once with the desperation she felt. He had to hear her, she would make him. Her voice raised in volume, her heart poured into it as she yelled his name. Someone in the next room banged on the wall, but she wasn't interested in courtesy towards the sleeping guests around her. Instead, her will was focused on one name, that had poured off her lips in whispered passion and now would not be reached no matter how loud she shouted. Victor kept on walking, until she could not see him anymore.

She finally fell to the floor, pressing her forehead against the sill while she wept. This was the StarSlayer's curse; to be left alone. She could see the glint of the dan Sabriel sword from where she'd shoved it under the bed the afternoon before.

As sharp as the edge was, it couldn't cut quite as deeply as her heartache.

[Sighter Tnailog]

Quest Judging
Harmless

An amazing story, beautifully written. I will admit that more than one part of it brought a tear to my eye.

Duro, your writing is simply beautiful. Never doubt your skill...it is here, and it is here to stay.

And Manda, one thing...this thread would make Eric proud.

STORY

Continuity ~ 10/10. Almost flawless. The only thing I would say is something I've already mentioned to Manda regarding why her character wanted to hit Letho, and since we've already discussed it via AIM I don't see a need to comment further. If you need a hint, it has to do with some clarity issues in the introduction.
Setting ~ 9.5/10. You really brought an area of Radasanth alive for me that I don't often see, and better yet, I was able to really see...and smell...the effect. While there's always room for improvement, there's not much.
Pacing ~ 10/10. Simply astounding. Not only did you manage to pull the story along from start to finish in a way that kept me riveted -- having that prizefight outside the Citadel actually had me really worried as to the outcome, a thing that's rare in the melodramatic world of Althanas -- but you also pulled some amazing mini-pacing aspects into the final climax that mirrored the rest of the plot. This thread is a perfect example of what pacing means.

CHARACTER

Dialogue ~ 9/10. Your dialogue was to the point. The NPCs were clear, and the discussions were sound. It really felt like you were having conversations, not merely making long speeches to one another.
Action ~ 10/10. The things your characters did were in perfect keeping with who your characters were. While the flaws I've mentioned in Continuity and Clarity did exist, I felt they were so minor that to punish them in three places would be overkill and decided to let the score stand at perfect.
Persona ~ 10/10. A better example of characters coping with and handling the confusing and nebulous world of emotion I haven't seen on Althanas since "Foreplay" (another excellent example of Manda's writing). Duro, I once criticized your writing for precisely this facet. It appears that you took my advice, and the results are far beyond what I had ever hoped for. Congratulations.

WRITING STYLE

Technique ~ 9/10. Quite excellent. Could always be better, but as it stands the wonderful way you worked together gets you huge points. One thing I can really tell when I read your work is that you are working hard at actually reading what the other person is writing. And then when you respond, you try to draw out elements of each other. And your bunnying is done flawlessly, seamlessly, and always with the intention of bringing out an important point. Well done.
Mechanics ~ 9/10. I saw only a bare handful of spelling and/or grammatical errors. Watch the apostrophes on it's and its! Also, especially for Duro, the word "pugilist" is a wonderful word. In fact, it's a great word to throw in there every once or twice a thread as a way of spicing up your vocabulary. But because it's so peculiar and different, when it appears too much a reader really starts to notice, and wonders if you have any other words. The benefit of a smaller word -- say, "fighter," -- is that you can use it more often per thread without someone noticing. But when you spam the word "pugilist," the reader can't help but wonder if it's the only word you have in your thesaurus. Try to save the good words for just one or two uses, and you can start gaining the edge that pushes the 9 to a 10.
Clarity ~ 8.5/10. I was a bit confused by Manda's intro, as it wasn't entirely made plain that she was going to go prizefighting -- and it was also a bit hard to tell why she wanted to in the first place. That led to a spare bit of confusion at the beginning, but nothing too bad. I took away most of the points here, though, as opposed to taking them from action and continuity. The problem wasn't with the action nor the continuity as much as it was with the writing meant to portray them, so I hope this method shows that clearly.

MISCELLANEOUS

Wild Card ~ 9/10. Manda knows what I mean when I say the only reason this isn't a 10 is because of the shower.

TOTAL ~ 94. This is the highest score I have ever given. You should both accord it a tremendous honor. This entire thread glows to me, as if you wrote it with fire and gold.

EXP Rewards

Skie and Avery gains 5000 EXP!
The Cinderella Man gains 5400 EXP!

GP Rewards

Skie and Avery gains 540 GP!
The Cinderella Man gains 480 GP!

Other Rewards

Both of you have my undying respect.

[Letho]

EXP/GP added! Skie and Avery and The Cinderella Man, welcome to the next level.