Chapter OnePart one of a story I've been planning on writing for a while. Follows on from a long series of other solos and wraps up the current storyline for Stare and Vitruvion.
Chaotically, she yawned; a wide-beaked deceleration to all that she needed air. Her head tipped back, so that the extent of her pink tongue, deep throat and oesophagus could been seen, glorious in the natural state. Her eyes slid closed, shutting off the access to her power that could quell an army. Rolling back her shoulders she made a most of her soundless movement, the yawn wider and more disgusting than one could truly desire.
"Stare," came a quiet, disapproving tone.
One eye peeked open as the need to gulp air began to dissipate. She spied the elegant man, these days less formal and more relaxed. The smart tailcoat jacket, the tailored breeches and the matching necktie had all gone, to be replaced by cotton trousers, still fine, and a white shirt. His cane, a symbol of his character, had all but disappeared, and the golden dagger that had been hidden within it all this time now sheathed and slid into his belt.
Slowly she closed her beak, her head turning to look at him as he sat across the room from her. He was staring at her, over his newspaper with one eyebrow raised. That familiar look made her pause, the life she had and the knowledge she had coming back to her as the distraction of that single yawn had obliterated her awareness of it. Her clawed fingers curled on the edges of the book upon her lap, and she grunted.
"Disgusting?"
"Indeed," Vitruvion Elssmith said, his white hair perfectly framing her face. Her employer. Her god. Her master. Her actual liege-lord now. A man she had made a deal with in order to gain the best of what she could from the situation she had been stuck with. The fact she was immortal, by his hand, and he was too. The fact he was so obsessed with her safety he could barely let her out of his sight currently. The fact she meant more to him than they dared give a name to now, because the word 'love' would never be uttered again. Not by either of them. Because it still caused her horror to know that he was in love with her ...
Of course, for all that they had gone through, there were reasons. Their relationship, if it could be called one, had begun a year prior almost, when she had been physically kidnapped to be taken as a 'guest' into his underground sex-slave dungeon, ruled by a tribe of machocistic men. There she had been abused by him, raped, and verbally assaulted - until she had become more useful to him as a servant and a member of his staff than just for sex. They had found out the truth of their connection - that he was the son of the god who had created and then abandoned her race, making her not only his employee but also his subject. He had wasted little time: he had bound them mentally by way of an immoveable cuff on her wrist and a ring on his finger; he had formally made her his literal property; and then later had made her immortal, so that their bond would last into eternity, and she would be stuck with him, despite his cruelty and his abuse of her in the early months.
And then things had changed. Dramatically. His half-brother had appeared in his life, and for some still unknown reason, had begun to destroy everything Vitruvion loved dear. He had killed a close friend. He had destroyed two of the trading ships that held up the god's business empire. He had kidnapped her, by way of Bounty Hunters, and also brought her own brother back from the dead, but as something cruel and with no memory of her. He had disabled Raevin, perhaps permanently, the mighty elf warrior who had served Vitruvion for decades, and most recently had kidnapped Ventura, Vitruvion's only loyal sister. Their own city also, Beinost, where much of Vitruvion's life was, had been almost brought to chaos when agents of this enemy brother had killed livestock and burnt warehouses to cause the city to almost starve ...