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#51
Tower of Art / Re: [Writing] Bleeding Edge (D...
Last post by Merlin - May 17, 2026, 02:10:07 AMYES MORE MORE MORE
#52
Jayhawk HQ / Re: [Xer 2 Chapter 5]
Last post by Tapewolf - May 16, 2026, 06:50:53 AMAs a subtle hint I will say that this story owes a lot to System Shock, by which I mean the original not the remake.
#53
Jayhawk HQ / Re: [Epsilon Chapter 56]
Last post by ProfesseurRenard - May 15, 2026, 11:15:01 PM56-02 - There are some people you really don't want to hear saying "I don't know"
I'd love to know how he came to that conclusion- I didn't see the two wayward students anywhere near Daxxon or Lady Finch.
I'd love to know how he came to that conclusion- I didn't see the two wayward students anywhere near Daxxon or Lady Finch.
#54
Tower of Art / Re: [Writing] Bleeding Edge (D...
Last post by Chairtastic - May 15, 2026, 07:10:44 PMChapter Fifteen: Long Dried Blood
---
Telmun City, 8533 years before DMFA
Siar
In a chamber hidden deep in the T'Leylu Geofront, Siar stirred a cauldron. The room was cavernous, formed from an air pocket as the stone had cooled. Alas, no crystals had been within. But with time, effort, and careful attention to detail, it had been made into a chamber large enough to house a tri-wing.
Perhaps two.
The cauldron Siar stirred rested atop a fire rune, no actual flames emerged – only heat. Within her cauldron, her bubbly brew cast unnaturally bright red light into the dark chamber. Such crimson light highlighted a figure so massive they could only be seen in parts, at such proximity. Twinned tails, white feathered wings, a glimpse of a yellow crook-like mark.
Seme, despair made manifest.
The beat of her smallest wings, those upon great Seme's head, created wind to funnel fumes from Siar's brew into vents spread throughout the walls. The beat of her heart was so strong it caused the earth around them to rattle. Her aura was so strong, Siar had no need to breathe – a level of sustenance that required hundreds of thousands of other people's emotions to achieve.
On the morrow, her youngest son would wed an angel. Weeks thence, Siar would imbibe her brew and make the change. She would shed her flesh in part, to become a being of emotion and magic. For years she had meditated upon herself, her family, and how she would try to make their lives better.
Seme spoke to her with thoughts, for her actual voice would echo dangerously in the cavern. 'Does the knowledge of your own death trouble you?'
With her thoughts, Siar replied. 'Somewhat. I possess a strong negative reputation. Freed from Owona's neurotic need for secrecy and being hidden, many grudgeholders from events I may've forgotten will seek me out. For all I know, this Hizell may be one such injured party.'
The giant woman blinked, and a gust passed through the cavern. 'Hizell rules a land called Incalcul, across the ocean on the opposite side of the atoll. There, he is attended by a race of mythos he has groomed to see him as their godking. That is all I know, from inherited memories of Divallis.'
Seme did not often speak of, or reference her previous clan leader. No one knew the particulars of Seme's ascension, only that she and Divallis came to the arrangement peacefully. Siar didn't even know Divallis' gender, or species – let alone their personality – the topics were a place of pain in Seme's history.
She would wait until Seme felt comfortable enough to share, if ever.
'Siar.' Owona's mind brushed hers, from afar. 'When you have a moment, meditate and see me. Gemenes and I must discuss things with you.'
Siar's whole mood changed, for the worse. Her wings fluffed up as did her tail. 'Owona wants to talk, would you be upset with me if I bit her arms off?'
'I'd be impressed actually. I've seen her do battle – it's wonderful to behold.' Seme moved her head into the light cast by Siar's potion, and visibly blew a kiss down to her.
Siar mimed being thrown across the room from the impact of the kiss, and departed to her home so she could meditate.
Her home had long since been modified so that her ascended form fifteen point three meters tall, would be able to move about. Though she would never admit it, since the idea for ascension entered her mind six years prior, she'd been sketching possible clan marks.
Red would be the color. Arterial blood red, like her flight feathers.
She floated atop a pool of water broad and deep enough to fit her entire bloodline wingtip to wingtip, and centered herself.
As easy as breathing, she followed a mental path laid by Owona's message, into a shared dreamscape.
Siar stepped onto a sandy shore, adjacent to a sea of green algae-rich waters. A stone port was behind her, where metal and glass ships that towered above the waters loaded crowds of people. For background dressing, the people were so detailed – Siar could swear each was truly a person.
"They are," Owona's voice said as if she were right beside Siar. "Each one of those people is a past life of your grandson, Gemenes. I have spent thirteen years reviewing them, and I have barely scratched the surface."
She looked around, and saw an umbrella shoved into the sand not too far away. There, Owona sat with the proportions of a normal mole. As she approached, Siar glanced back at the titanic crowd of people who boarded the huge ships. Each of them so clear, even at a distance.
That would indeed pose a hurdle on the path to ascension.
A spell shifted Siar's garb into something suitable for swimming – to fit the tone of the dream. Smallclothes, a fringed wrap about the chest, and a broad blanket which she wore like a cape. As she approached, she saw Owona dressed much the same – in earth tones to Siar's red and black shades.
Gemenes' head lay in the sand, supported by a roll of fabric while Owona poured sand over his body. "Welcome to the Chairport, gramma," he greeted with his eyes closed.
Her head and backwings mirrored her eyebrows as she looked down at her grandson and clan leader. "...Chairport?"
"It's a pun based on the name of this overoul phenomena," Owona waved her clawed hand, dismissive, and continued to pack sand onto Gemenes. "Sit. We have much to discuss."
Siar narrowed her eyes and laid her blanket down next to her buried grandson. Her greatest of grandmothers didn't seem to object that Siar had put the young man between them. "What is this all about?"
Owona poured sand around Gemenes' neck, then looked up to meet Siar's gaze. Impassive indifference met suspicion and didn't flinch. "I have reviewed the limited information about the clan you will lead, and the death you will face if all remains unchanged." Owona's dominant black-sclera eyes contrasted readily with Siar's recessive white-sclera eyes, as did their green/red wing colors. "I would like to save your life, if possible."
Teeth bared as she smiled, Siar bowed her head. "Truly, a sentiment I would mirror."
"Excellent. I have reviewed the circumstances of your death: It is by ambush. You are lured into single combat, goaded into summoning your clan, and then beset by an ambush of tri-wing class combatants unknown in number." Owona counted off on the talons of one hand as she carved muscles into the sand used to contain Gemenes with the other.
"But, see?" Her grandson chimed in. "He don't pick that fight with yous until you propose alliance with clan Cyra. Cyra ain't even born yet, don't worry 'bout her right now."
"The fact that my alliance with her clan directly results in mine own death begets a certain level of worry, grandson." Siar spoke with flatness that any pane of glass would envy.
"The key point to remember," Owona spoke up and began to carve with both hands, "is that he was willing to leave you be until that point. So if you position yourself carefully when the alliance is announced...." She trailed off and shrugged. "Draconic ego can be so easily exploited."
Siar nodded as she saw the logic.
They stayed on the beach and discussed the distant future in greater detail. Eventually, Siar joined in on carving the sand over her grandson, just to occupy her hands.
It all ended with a rumble through the dreamscape.
"Whoop, Ramuh's waking me up," Gemenes said. "Guess Percell is layin' that egg."
And thus, she became great-grandmother to another wee babe.
--
Illyria Scorcros
Gemenes had given them a home and a place to put it without charge, even though they could pay for several months rent at his posted rates.
Illyria had done some digging while Themis was gone to see the healers, see.
The home Gemenes had given them was a queer ornament, a water-filled glass orb on a wooden base, with an image of a cozy cottage on the inside surrounded by white powder that could float as debris in the water if shaken.
And the actual home, in a dimension inside the ornament, all that was true. The floorplan mimicked the cottage's dimensions, and even had an exterior yard where flakes of ice fell constantly into deep sand-like piles across the ground and on the building.
Snow. Illyria had only read about it in books. Rain that froze on the way to the ground. Most common on the tops of mountains or in the distant north. Comia had no mountains at all, the entire atoll barely got above sea level, and their adventures had only taken them to the northern oceans where icebergs floated.
Something troubled them as they dressed for civilian life for the first time in a decade – no armor, no weapons. Their new powers could pick up some emotions – though it took them time to parse what they picked up. See, Gemenes set up an emotion filter around them so they would not be overloaded and driven to headaches, and that blunted their perception.
From Gemenes, when he saw them and Themis, he was joyful. When he had given them their ornament to be their home, he was pained. But when they showed him their clan mark, there was a queer complex emotion that they didn't understand.
Sadness, deep sadness, that felt like it was stretched over something. Then, a spark of hope and determination.
With Themis at the doctor, they decided to seek out the raccoon for questioning.
They stepped out of their cottage's front door and trudged through snow into the border zone. A flex of magic, like a wave of water, hit them and they put their feet not on snow powder, but stone.
A gallery of plinths, well lit, along the outer edge of the wall, and around the outside of the spiral stairs throughout the building. An elderly zebu couple waved to them as they brought their shopping into their home – a porcelain teapot covered in intricate blue leafy vines.
Up the stairs, in the central portion of the tower, Illyria found Gemenes and Percell in the kitchen. Both looked like they had only heard of sleep in passing conversation, frazzled, in their nightclothes, and with their eyes glazed over.
Between them at Gemenes' kitchen table was a melon-sized egg with flame-like colouration. A prominent crack was in the midst of being filled with wax by Gemenes. He held the block in one hand, and melted it with a flame on the fingertip of his opposite pointer. Drip, drip, drip.
Illyria blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. "Is now a bad time to offer congratulations?"
"Nah it's fine." "I really don't think we deserve them at this point." The wedded pair spoke at the same time.
Gemenes' glowing eyes lit up as his ears flicked down, his headwings flared upward. "I'm going to take that as a 'wait until they hatch' thing, Percell. Because I did not try to sit on an egg and crack the shell."
"Can we not fight in front of the baby? Or the egg?" Percell spoke as if exhaustion was all she had ever known in her life.
Illyria narrowed their eyes at her, but said nothing. It was still hard to be taken seriously when their primary colors were white and pink. They sat at the table and took their gloves off. "If... now's a bad time, I can go. I just wanted to talk about our clans?"
Percell sighed in relief. "A change of topic, oh thank the ninety-one sages."
Eyebrows raised, they looked at Gemenes.
"Seme's clan doesn't do ancestor worship – they follow the teachings of clan sages who made significant contributions to the clan." He shrugged and set the wax block down. Gemenes extinguished the flame by closing his finger into his fist with a sizzle. "I know Seme and Scorcros don't really get along, and our clan leaders used to fight all the time...."
"That's not what I'm talking about." They brushed their fingers across their clan mark on the back of their left hand. "When you saw my clan mark you... felt sad. Why?"
Gemenes looked at them, mouth thin with pain, and glanced over at his wife. "Do you want to have this conversation here, or in private?"
"Here's fine. She's older than either of us, she probably has better insight on the problem."
Percell nodded with her thumb raised.
The raccoon sighed and pulled the egg into his arms for cuddling. "I've been made aware of certain future events. Not certain, but most likely. The most likely outcome is clan Scorcros will cease to exist sometime in the next thousand years – passed down to a succubus named Fa'Lina." He hugged his egg, careful to mind the crack. "Who will not have a happy reign."
Illyria blinked, then pondered. "Fa'Lina... I have an aunt with that name. But she's a fruit, like you and Percell. I don't know that I have any cousins by her." They assumed a thinking pose while they racked their brain for faces.
"Her wings the opposite arrangement of yours? Taller than any of us? Tig ol' bitties?" The first two questions were quickly confirmed but the third required cupping motions in front of Gemenes' chest to confirm what he even asked.
"I can already tell we're going to get so many complaints about our kids being crass," Percell muttered. "Talkin' bout titties in front of the egg like that." She blinked, then pinched the region between her eyes. "And now I'm doing it too."
"The infection spreads~" Gemenes rubbed his face gently on the egg.
Illyria reflected on Gemenes' crude description, and found it matched. What cemented it was the mention of Fa'Lina's 'tig ol' bitties'. Each one the size of Illyria's actual physical head made them memorable. "Yeah, that describes her. So, she's going to take over my clan?"
"Mhm."
Percell pawed at Gemenes' egg-cuddling arm. "I want a turn. Gib."
With narrowed eyes, Gemenes passed her the egg. "If I have to fix another crack, you're going to be doing the work for egg number two...."
Illyria made a face. "Ew."
"Indeed! Fruit, all of us, forced to participate in physical reproduction!" Gemenes flapped his arms and stood. "I'm going to be working on a fix for that. Jars where fetuses can develop into babies and more, that sort of thing. Not today, but." He shrugged. "Gotta go get ready for work, it'll be a solo day today."
Their eyes narrowed as they stood to follow Gemenes. "Wait, but today's your father's wedding!"
"Yeah, and he's getting married to my boss." Gemenes rubbed his temples as he walked. "People still need work permits approved, taxes still need to be processed, and today is payday for three hundred of the city's employees. Someone has to be in the office to make all that happen."
"...Want me to get in my full armor setup and fuck with the people that act uppity?"
"Sure! We'll make a day of it!"
--
Ea Gnashir
She was resplendent, in a gown made from feathers contributed by her siblings and Gyo'Oh. Her mousy husband had a beaded lava-lava and a cloak of similar design to Ea's gown. They almost matched, even if their colors clashed a bit.
Two long processions departed from Ea's home – one from the bridges to the upper layer, and another to the ground layer. The bride and groom marched with their families to reach a shrine to the Gnashir ancestors, where the marriage would be cemented. In so doing, every ambitious fool who saw Ea as a vehicle for their own rise in power would be stymied, at least for a while.
Not all the family would be able to attend, that was fine. Her younger siblings all flanked her, and their spouses with them. Then, out from the center, her niblings and in-laws would form layers of protection.
Ea's wedding announcement had given rise to a wave of celebrations motivated by her and a few whispered words with golden promises. The best kind of promises. Vendors sold festival food, games were held, flower petals lined the streets.
Mostly engineered, of course, but the legitimate better life her city offered people made them most appreciative.
And, of course, if Nihi'lir could overcome angel lowered fertility within the first year – she would be free of Gemenes and his chaos. She could hire one of her niblings as her secretary, and plug one hole in her organization's information security.
The ceremony was done soon, and the two newlyweds retired to her home. For being blind, Nihi'lir navigated the great estate well.
Being servants helped them out of their wedding clothes, and took them to storage for eventual display in a museum.
Her mousy husband sat on the marital bed in his smallclothes while Ea directed servants where to put his clothes in the chamber's closets. Much of the room's beauty would be lost on him, such as the mosaics across the roof, the prismatic curtains around the bed, or the water feature for Ea's frog collection (and turtle).
"I know you don't need to sleep, but if you would consent to do your meditations here for a while I would appreciate it." Ea sat on the bed next to her new husband and unbound her hair so it could fall into her natural curls. "My siblings will see it as us going above and beyond trying to make a baby, the populace will see it favorably for much the same reason, and it will enable my wards to acclimatize to your presence."
Nihi'lir nodded. "I can do that. Your wards automatically adjust to people?"
"Yes – it's a complex array of if-then decision-trees I wrote into them so I wouldn't need to take them down and re-apply them for every staffing change. That's how I lost two of my siblings – assassins struck while the wards were down."
The Gnashir family once consisted of Aa, Ea, Ia, Oa, Ua, Ya, and Wa. Aa and Ia had been the ones to die to assassins, while Wa had vaporized by Ea's mother for requesting a letter of introduction to use for applying to jobs.
Their mother expected them to be able to forge her handwriting by that age, see.
"I'm so sorry, it wasn't us was it?" Nihi'lir scooted closer to her, his back and headwings lowered.
"No. Adventurers who knew enough about angels to know who really called the shots among a group of half-demons." Ea reached out and scooted her new husband to her side, and in so doing enjoyed a guilt-free grasp of his upper thigh and bottom.
Guilt was, unfortunately, her one weakness in the eyes of her mother and siblings. It was why they allowed her to command them – she wouldn't abuse her power over them to avoid 'feeling bad'. They overestimated how debilitating guilt could be, a carefully constructed view Ea had managed.
She felt so guilty for lying to them. Truly. Honestly.
"I've been up front about my wariness of your clan, which prompted our union. Kin of yours have taken the lives of employers, friends, and a couple paramours. But such is the nature of our life." Her hands drifted more obviously toward her husband's bottom and her eyes shifted to the servants. She needed them to see her initiating the contact, so no one would doubt her supremacy in the house.
Nihi'lir's ears flicked in their direction, and he shifted to make Ea's hand migration easier. He timed it so that one of Ea's maids had her eyes in the right place to see Ea's hand in motion. A victory he assisted her in having. Perhaps he'd make a good partner even after the marriage ran its course.
As the servants left, and they were about to make ready for a 'fun' part of their day, Nihi'lir's fur puffed up.
"Picking up a wave of fear and panic coming from that way," he pointed south-east, toward Central Lake, the first major landmark in that direction. "Is something happening?"
Ea, her hands ready to de-smallclothes her new husband so they could get to business, clicked her tongue. "If something truly ridiculous were to happen, the alarms would -- "
Sonorous bass horns began to blare in three short blasts, three long blasts, then three short blasts again. The code for all of Ea's demon kin to make ready for combat.
She took a deep breath through her nose. The use of that specific code likely a significant problem. "I'm going to get dressed. Assuming all goes well, we can pick this up when I get back."
Ea removed her hands from her husband's person and summoned her battle attire from her closet. The same one she had fought Gyo'Oh with, years ago. A suit of armor meant to guard her most vital points from magic-piercing moves and weapons, and a spiked sheathe for her horn. Just in case.
She left her chamber, and would never return.
---
I couldn't help but notice that things were going smoothly for a long while.
So I decided things should stop doing that.
---
Telmun City, 8533 years before DMFA
Siar
In a chamber hidden deep in the T'Leylu Geofront, Siar stirred a cauldron. The room was cavernous, formed from an air pocket as the stone had cooled. Alas, no crystals had been within. But with time, effort, and careful attention to detail, it had been made into a chamber large enough to house a tri-wing.
Perhaps two.
The cauldron Siar stirred rested atop a fire rune, no actual flames emerged – only heat. Within her cauldron, her bubbly brew cast unnaturally bright red light into the dark chamber. Such crimson light highlighted a figure so massive they could only be seen in parts, at such proximity. Twinned tails, white feathered wings, a glimpse of a yellow crook-like mark.
Seme, despair made manifest.
The beat of her smallest wings, those upon great Seme's head, created wind to funnel fumes from Siar's brew into vents spread throughout the walls. The beat of her heart was so strong it caused the earth around them to rattle. Her aura was so strong, Siar had no need to breathe – a level of sustenance that required hundreds of thousands of other people's emotions to achieve.
On the morrow, her youngest son would wed an angel. Weeks thence, Siar would imbibe her brew and make the change. She would shed her flesh in part, to become a being of emotion and magic. For years she had meditated upon herself, her family, and how she would try to make their lives better.
Seme spoke to her with thoughts, for her actual voice would echo dangerously in the cavern. 'Does the knowledge of your own death trouble you?'
With her thoughts, Siar replied. 'Somewhat. I possess a strong negative reputation. Freed from Owona's neurotic need for secrecy and being hidden, many grudgeholders from events I may've forgotten will seek me out. For all I know, this Hizell may be one such injured party.'
The giant woman blinked, and a gust passed through the cavern. 'Hizell rules a land called Incalcul, across the ocean on the opposite side of the atoll. There, he is attended by a race of mythos he has groomed to see him as their godking. That is all I know, from inherited memories of Divallis.'
Seme did not often speak of, or reference her previous clan leader. No one knew the particulars of Seme's ascension, only that she and Divallis came to the arrangement peacefully. Siar didn't even know Divallis' gender, or species – let alone their personality – the topics were a place of pain in Seme's history.
She would wait until Seme felt comfortable enough to share, if ever.
'Siar.' Owona's mind brushed hers, from afar. 'When you have a moment, meditate and see me. Gemenes and I must discuss things with you.'
Siar's whole mood changed, for the worse. Her wings fluffed up as did her tail. 'Owona wants to talk, would you be upset with me if I bit her arms off?'
'I'd be impressed actually. I've seen her do battle – it's wonderful to behold.' Seme moved her head into the light cast by Siar's potion, and visibly blew a kiss down to her.
Siar mimed being thrown across the room from the impact of the kiss, and departed to her home so she could meditate.
Her home had long since been modified so that her ascended form fifteen point three meters tall, would be able to move about. Though she would never admit it, since the idea for ascension entered her mind six years prior, she'd been sketching possible clan marks.
Red would be the color. Arterial blood red, like her flight feathers.
She floated atop a pool of water broad and deep enough to fit her entire bloodline wingtip to wingtip, and centered herself.
As easy as breathing, she followed a mental path laid by Owona's message, into a shared dreamscape.
Siar stepped onto a sandy shore, adjacent to a sea of green algae-rich waters. A stone port was behind her, where metal and glass ships that towered above the waters loaded crowds of people. For background dressing, the people were so detailed – Siar could swear each was truly a person.
"They are," Owona's voice said as if she were right beside Siar. "Each one of those people is a past life of your grandson, Gemenes. I have spent thirteen years reviewing them, and I have barely scratched the surface."
She looked around, and saw an umbrella shoved into the sand not too far away. There, Owona sat with the proportions of a normal mole. As she approached, Siar glanced back at the titanic crowd of people who boarded the huge ships. Each of them so clear, even at a distance.
That would indeed pose a hurdle on the path to ascension.
A spell shifted Siar's garb into something suitable for swimming – to fit the tone of the dream. Smallclothes, a fringed wrap about the chest, and a broad blanket which she wore like a cape. As she approached, she saw Owona dressed much the same – in earth tones to Siar's red and black shades.
Gemenes' head lay in the sand, supported by a roll of fabric while Owona poured sand over his body. "Welcome to the Chairport, gramma," he greeted with his eyes closed.
Her head and backwings mirrored her eyebrows as she looked down at her grandson and clan leader. "...Chairport?"
"It's a pun based on the name of this overoul phenomena," Owona waved her clawed hand, dismissive, and continued to pack sand onto Gemenes. "Sit. We have much to discuss."
Siar narrowed her eyes and laid her blanket down next to her buried grandson. Her greatest of grandmothers didn't seem to object that Siar had put the young man between them. "What is this all about?"
Owona poured sand around Gemenes' neck, then looked up to meet Siar's gaze. Impassive indifference met suspicion and didn't flinch. "I have reviewed the limited information about the clan you will lead, and the death you will face if all remains unchanged." Owona's dominant black-sclera eyes contrasted readily with Siar's recessive white-sclera eyes, as did their green/red wing colors. "I would like to save your life, if possible."
Teeth bared as she smiled, Siar bowed her head. "Truly, a sentiment I would mirror."
"Excellent. I have reviewed the circumstances of your death: It is by ambush. You are lured into single combat, goaded into summoning your clan, and then beset by an ambush of tri-wing class combatants unknown in number." Owona counted off on the talons of one hand as she carved muscles into the sand used to contain Gemenes with the other.
"But, see?" Her grandson chimed in. "He don't pick that fight with yous until you propose alliance with clan Cyra. Cyra ain't even born yet, don't worry 'bout her right now."
"The fact that my alliance with her clan directly results in mine own death begets a certain level of worry, grandson." Siar spoke with flatness that any pane of glass would envy.
"The key point to remember," Owona spoke up and began to carve with both hands, "is that he was willing to leave you be until that point. So if you position yourself carefully when the alliance is announced...." She trailed off and shrugged. "Draconic ego can be so easily exploited."
Siar nodded as she saw the logic.
They stayed on the beach and discussed the distant future in greater detail. Eventually, Siar joined in on carving the sand over her grandson, just to occupy her hands.
It all ended with a rumble through the dreamscape.
"Whoop, Ramuh's waking me up," Gemenes said. "Guess Percell is layin' that egg."
And thus, she became great-grandmother to another wee babe.
--
Illyria Scorcros
Gemenes had given them a home and a place to put it without charge, even though they could pay for several months rent at his posted rates.
Illyria had done some digging while Themis was gone to see the healers, see.
The home Gemenes had given them was a queer ornament, a water-filled glass orb on a wooden base, with an image of a cozy cottage on the inside surrounded by white powder that could float as debris in the water if shaken.
And the actual home, in a dimension inside the ornament, all that was true. The floorplan mimicked the cottage's dimensions, and even had an exterior yard where flakes of ice fell constantly into deep sand-like piles across the ground and on the building.
Snow. Illyria had only read about it in books. Rain that froze on the way to the ground. Most common on the tops of mountains or in the distant north. Comia had no mountains at all, the entire atoll barely got above sea level, and their adventures had only taken them to the northern oceans where icebergs floated.
Something troubled them as they dressed for civilian life for the first time in a decade – no armor, no weapons. Their new powers could pick up some emotions – though it took them time to parse what they picked up. See, Gemenes set up an emotion filter around them so they would not be overloaded and driven to headaches, and that blunted their perception.
From Gemenes, when he saw them and Themis, he was joyful. When he had given them their ornament to be their home, he was pained. But when they showed him their clan mark, there was a queer complex emotion that they didn't understand.
Sadness, deep sadness, that felt like it was stretched over something. Then, a spark of hope and determination.
With Themis at the doctor, they decided to seek out the raccoon for questioning.
They stepped out of their cottage's front door and trudged through snow into the border zone. A flex of magic, like a wave of water, hit them and they put their feet not on snow powder, but stone.
A gallery of plinths, well lit, along the outer edge of the wall, and around the outside of the spiral stairs throughout the building. An elderly zebu couple waved to them as they brought their shopping into their home – a porcelain teapot covered in intricate blue leafy vines.
Up the stairs, in the central portion of the tower, Illyria found Gemenes and Percell in the kitchen. Both looked like they had only heard of sleep in passing conversation, frazzled, in their nightclothes, and with their eyes glazed over.
Between them at Gemenes' kitchen table was a melon-sized egg with flame-like colouration. A prominent crack was in the midst of being filled with wax by Gemenes. He held the block in one hand, and melted it with a flame on the fingertip of his opposite pointer. Drip, drip, drip.
Illyria blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. "Is now a bad time to offer congratulations?"
"Nah it's fine." "I really don't think we deserve them at this point." The wedded pair spoke at the same time.
Gemenes' glowing eyes lit up as his ears flicked down, his headwings flared upward. "I'm going to take that as a 'wait until they hatch' thing, Percell. Because I did not try to sit on an egg and crack the shell."
"Can we not fight in front of the baby? Or the egg?" Percell spoke as if exhaustion was all she had ever known in her life.
Illyria narrowed their eyes at her, but said nothing. It was still hard to be taken seriously when their primary colors were white and pink. They sat at the table and took their gloves off. "If... now's a bad time, I can go. I just wanted to talk about our clans?"
Percell sighed in relief. "A change of topic, oh thank the ninety-one sages."
Eyebrows raised, they looked at Gemenes.
"Seme's clan doesn't do ancestor worship – they follow the teachings of clan sages who made significant contributions to the clan." He shrugged and set the wax block down. Gemenes extinguished the flame by closing his finger into his fist with a sizzle. "I know Seme and Scorcros don't really get along, and our clan leaders used to fight all the time...."
"That's not what I'm talking about." They brushed their fingers across their clan mark on the back of their left hand. "When you saw my clan mark you... felt sad. Why?"
Gemenes looked at them, mouth thin with pain, and glanced over at his wife. "Do you want to have this conversation here, or in private?"
"Here's fine. She's older than either of us, she probably has better insight on the problem."
Percell nodded with her thumb raised.
The raccoon sighed and pulled the egg into his arms for cuddling. "I've been made aware of certain future events. Not certain, but most likely. The most likely outcome is clan Scorcros will cease to exist sometime in the next thousand years – passed down to a succubus named Fa'Lina." He hugged his egg, careful to mind the crack. "Who will not have a happy reign."
Illyria blinked, then pondered. "Fa'Lina... I have an aunt with that name. But she's a fruit, like you and Percell. I don't know that I have any cousins by her." They assumed a thinking pose while they racked their brain for faces.
"Her wings the opposite arrangement of yours? Taller than any of us? Tig ol' bitties?" The first two questions were quickly confirmed but the third required cupping motions in front of Gemenes' chest to confirm what he even asked.
"I can already tell we're going to get so many complaints about our kids being crass," Percell muttered. "Talkin' bout titties in front of the egg like that." She blinked, then pinched the region between her eyes. "And now I'm doing it too."
"The infection spreads~" Gemenes rubbed his face gently on the egg.
Illyria reflected on Gemenes' crude description, and found it matched. What cemented it was the mention of Fa'Lina's 'tig ol' bitties'. Each one the size of Illyria's actual physical head made them memorable. "Yeah, that describes her. So, she's going to take over my clan?"
"Mhm."
Percell pawed at Gemenes' egg-cuddling arm. "I want a turn. Gib."
With narrowed eyes, Gemenes passed her the egg. "If I have to fix another crack, you're going to be doing the work for egg number two...."
Illyria made a face. "Ew."
"Indeed! Fruit, all of us, forced to participate in physical reproduction!" Gemenes flapped his arms and stood. "I'm going to be working on a fix for that. Jars where fetuses can develop into babies and more, that sort of thing. Not today, but." He shrugged. "Gotta go get ready for work, it'll be a solo day today."
Their eyes narrowed as they stood to follow Gemenes. "Wait, but today's your father's wedding!"
"Yeah, and he's getting married to my boss." Gemenes rubbed his temples as he walked. "People still need work permits approved, taxes still need to be processed, and today is payday for three hundred of the city's employees. Someone has to be in the office to make all that happen."
"...Want me to get in my full armor setup and fuck with the people that act uppity?"
"Sure! We'll make a day of it!"
--
Ea Gnashir
She was resplendent, in a gown made from feathers contributed by her siblings and Gyo'Oh. Her mousy husband had a beaded lava-lava and a cloak of similar design to Ea's gown. They almost matched, even if their colors clashed a bit.
Two long processions departed from Ea's home – one from the bridges to the upper layer, and another to the ground layer. The bride and groom marched with their families to reach a shrine to the Gnashir ancestors, where the marriage would be cemented. In so doing, every ambitious fool who saw Ea as a vehicle for their own rise in power would be stymied, at least for a while.
Not all the family would be able to attend, that was fine. Her younger siblings all flanked her, and their spouses with them. Then, out from the center, her niblings and in-laws would form layers of protection.
Ea's wedding announcement had given rise to a wave of celebrations motivated by her and a few whispered words with golden promises. The best kind of promises. Vendors sold festival food, games were held, flower petals lined the streets.
Mostly engineered, of course, but the legitimate better life her city offered people made them most appreciative.
And, of course, if Nihi'lir could overcome angel lowered fertility within the first year – she would be free of Gemenes and his chaos. She could hire one of her niblings as her secretary, and plug one hole in her organization's information security.
The ceremony was done soon, and the two newlyweds retired to her home. For being blind, Nihi'lir navigated the great estate well.
Being servants helped them out of their wedding clothes, and took them to storage for eventual display in a museum.
Her mousy husband sat on the marital bed in his smallclothes while Ea directed servants where to put his clothes in the chamber's closets. Much of the room's beauty would be lost on him, such as the mosaics across the roof, the prismatic curtains around the bed, or the water feature for Ea's frog collection (and turtle).
"I know you don't need to sleep, but if you would consent to do your meditations here for a while I would appreciate it." Ea sat on the bed next to her new husband and unbound her hair so it could fall into her natural curls. "My siblings will see it as us going above and beyond trying to make a baby, the populace will see it favorably for much the same reason, and it will enable my wards to acclimatize to your presence."
Nihi'lir nodded. "I can do that. Your wards automatically adjust to people?"
"Yes – it's a complex array of if-then decision-trees I wrote into them so I wouldn't need to take them down and re-apply them for every staffing change. That's how I lost two of my siblings – assassins struck while the wards were down."
The Gnashir family once consisted of Aa, Ea, Ia, Oa, Ua, Ya, and Wa. Aa and Ia had been the ones to die to assassins, while Wa had vaporized by Ea's mother for requesting a letter of introduction to use for applying to jobs.
Their mother expected them to be able to forge her handwriting by that age, see.
"I'm so sorry, it wasn't us was it?" Nihi'lir scooted closer to her, his back and headwings lowered.
"No. Adventurers who knew enough about angels to know who really called the shots among a group of half-demons." Ea reached out and scooted her new husband to her side, and in so doing enjoyed a guilt-free grasp of his upper thigh and bottom.
Guilt was, unfortunately, her one weakness in the eyes of her mother and siblings. It was why they allowed her to command them – she wouldn't abuse her power over them to avoid 'feeling bad'. They overestimated how debilitating guilt could be, a carefully constructed view Ea had managed.
She felt so guilty for lying to them. Truly. Honestly.
"I've been up front about my wariness of your clan, which prompted our union. Kin of yours have taken the lives of employers, friends, and a couple paramours. But such is the nature of our life." Her hands drifted more obviously toward her husband's bottom and her eyes shifted to the servants. She needed them to see her initiating the contact, so no one would doubt her supremacy in the house.
Nihi'lir's ears flicked in their direction, and he shifted to make Ea's hand migration easier. He timed it so that one of Ea's maids had her eyes in the right place to see Ea's hand in motion. A victory he assisted her in having. Perhaps he'd make a good partner even after the marriage ran its course.
As the servants left, and they were about to make ready for a 'fun' part of their day, Nihi'lir's fur puffed up.
"Picking up a wave of fear and panic coming from that way," he pointed south-east, toward Central Lake, the first major landmark in that direction. "Is something happening?"
Ea, her hands ready to de-smallclothes her new husband so they could get to business, clicked her tongue. "If something truly ridiculous were to happen, the alarms would -- "
Sonorous bass horns began to blare in three short blasts, three long blasts, then three short blasts again. The code for all of Ea's demon kin to make ready for combat.
She took a deep breath through her nose. The use of that specific code likely a significant problem. "I'm going to get dressed. Assuming all goes well, we can pick this up when I get back."
Ea removed her hands from her husband's person and summoned her battle attire from her closet. The same one she had fought Gyo'Oh with, years ago. A suit of armor meant to guard her most vital points from magic-piercing moves and weapons, and a spiked sheathe for her horn. Just in case.
She left her chamber, and would never return.
---
I couldn't help but notice that things were going smoothly for a long while.
So I decided things should stop doing that.
#55
The Lost Lake Inn / Re: 2026-05-07 - DMFA 2169 - W...
Last post by Starcat5 - May 15, 2026, 03:32:07 PMQuote from: ProfesseurRenard on May 15, 2026, 05:54:37 AMThe question is, would the therapy do any good?
Eh. She'd just eat their soul and then pretend that she never went in the first place.
#56
The Lost Lake Inn / Re: 2026-05-07 - DMFA 2169 - W...
Last post by ProfesseurRenard - May 15, 2026, 05:54:37 AMThe question is, would the therapy do any good?
#57
Jayhawk HQ / Re: [Xer 2 Chapter 5]
Last post by ProfesseurRenard - May 15, 2026, 05:52:49 AMAh the sweet promises of Silicon Heaven.
#58
The Lost Lake Inn / Re: 2026-05-07 - DMFA 2169 - W...
Last post by Viking ZX - May 14, 2026, 04:25:37 PMI will also chime in to say that Destania's expressions here are a lot of fun. Any "awkwardness" to them from the discussed medium shift I mentally filed under "unstable cubi shifting."
Because Sands and Storsm Destania is unstable. She needs some therapy. All the therapy, in fact.
Because Sands and Storsm Destania is unstable. She needs some therapy. All the therapy, in fact.
#59
Jayhawk HQ / Re: [Xer 2 Chapter 5]
Last post by Raskahn - May 14, 2026, 03:56:08 PMPosted in the wrong thread but here we are again, wait for it..
"And then they all live happily together in the cloud computing paradise so you see, death isn't such a bad thing."
"And then they all live happily together in the cloud computing paradise so you see, death isn't such a bad thing."
#60
Jayhawk HQ / Re: [Xer 2 Chapter 4]
Last post by Raskahn - May 14, 2026, 03:55:20 PMDangit! oh well, time to boost my post numbers I guess. XD