[Writing] Bleeding Edge (DMFA SI/AU) (PG-16) (Update 2024/07/29)

[Chairtastic]

Chapter Nine: Venous Victory

---

Telmun City, 8538 Years before DMFA

Nihi'lir Tuler Owona

From the overcast skies of Lostkeep Island, to the vault of a chamber below the earth they went.

It was finished quicker than a cut could bleed. He took a breath of air in one location, and let it out in the other.

The few outbuildings and verdant landscape of the island was replaced with stone and artificial lights. They were in great sinkhole, egg-shaped with the hole to the surface at the egg's narrow point.

Terraces lined the sides of the egg, with solid ground occupying only a third of the interior – the rest was a lake.

Nihi'lir saw buildings fill up all the available space on the ground then move up the sides of the sinkhole. In the distance there was a stone gate swung open through which people passed.

It was like Euberta's homestead, scaled up.

A violet-and-teal stag incubus greeted them with a bow. "Welcome Owona's children, to the T'Leylu Geofront, a district of Telmun City." He was dressed well – in a leather robe accented with gold, embedded feathers at the neck and shoulders, and the Hrienth clan symbol on the back. "We have arranged living space near the Tauns, per your clan leader's request. Who among you is your clan's representative?"

"Tis I," Siar proclaimed and stepped away from her clanmates.

"Well met, my Lady. We have guides who can lead your kin to their homes, if you would agree to meet with the other clan representatives over tea?"

They were guided up the side of the sinkhole – though the locals corrected them, said the word was 'geofront'. There were many aeries carved into the walls, with roads in the midst of being carved to connect them.

Flight was all but required to reach the galleries and balconies that served as entryways to the homes intended for them. The connecting tunnels and exterior roads seemed an afterthought.

Which the Hrienths confirmed, when Nihi'lir asked. They didn't anticipate being or mythos guests, let alone family members, when they'd built their aeries.

It was unmistakably Hishaani architecture. Lots of vertical space, like most modern architecture styles, but featured rounded edges on the top of most voids. All the support came from the exterior walls, so the few interior walls weren't load-bearing and could be decorated as desired. The stone which made up the homes had been magically polished, almost mirror-like in its quality.

When Nihi'lir had been shown to his home, he looked through the rooms and found them empty. Furnished, but no sign of occupation. Certainly nothing to show his son lived there. "Um, excuse me?"

He called out to the feline succubus, white-furred with violet-and-black feathered wings, dressed similarly to the stag, before she left Nihi'lir's balcony.

"I was told one of my family members was already here? My son, a raccoon with wings and hair like mine?"

The succubus flared her wings in surprise before she pulled them close to her body at the same time she folded her ears down. "A... raccoon?" Her voice was shaky. "Um. What's his name?" She began to mutter 'please no' over and over, so softly that only Nihi'lir's enormous ears could pick it up.

"Gemenes Tuler? About yea high?" He morphed part of his wing into a tentacle to indicate his son's height.

She nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I was afraid it'd be him." Her emotions were a mix of resignation and emotional bracing. Like she expected to be screamed at. "He's... he doesn't live in this geofront. He lives in the Dilmun Geofront, on the opposite side of the Central Geofront."

A magical map was conjured in the thin air – it showed their current location, and the 'geofronts' around them.

Nihi'lir looked at the map and narrowed his eyes. "Um. Bit of a weird question to ask – but can you tell me why someone would want to do that?"

She made a face like someone had asked her to lick a lemon. "Um. From Dilmun, it's possible to reach Central by foot more easily. As you can see the path from T'Leylu to Central is much longer. We're working on setting up a gryphon cart service, but...." The guide shrugged. "There's... also the fact that Dilmun is where many demons live. And Gemenes has known to frequently fight demons."

Nihi'lir made a face. That did sound like his boy.

"Well, that's not quite right. They usually pick a fight with him." She shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't know his address, so I can't tell you where to find him."

But a quick question to his clan leader could. Nihi'lir waved his guide off, and let her depart. Then, alone in his new home, he entered a meditative state to ask Owona where Gemenes lived.

'Number sixteen, Marrowbones Place. From the Central Geofront, he takes a route along the southern wall of Dilmun, then north in a straight line once he passes the food vendors, the home is on your left. I advise you to try the hotteok, Gemenes enjoys them perhaps you will too.'

Nihi'lir followed Owona's directions, and took her suggestion. Hotteok was the name for a type of griddle cake filled with brown sugar and nuts. He hadn't physically eaten anything in years by that point, and it was a wonderful reminder – food was delicious.

His son's home was on the ground of the geofront. There were others that were built into columns from the ground to the roof, others hung from the roof or were built into stalactites. The use of all dimensions of space open to them was something Nihi'lir wasn't used to.

He came up to the door marked with '16' in the stone and knocked. Where they got the wood for doors, he didn't know. There were trees in Central, perhaps those were harvested after a while?

A couple clacks of locks being undone, and the door swung open.

Gemenes had changed a lot in eight years. His curly hair had grown long, though the boy – young man – shaved the sides. He'd bulked up, and gotten over his dislike of trousers it seemed.

Trousers and coat loosely cut, made of a glossy red fabric with a blood drop pattern in white fabric. Oddly, it looked like he had a shirt made of a black fishing net that provided no cover for his torso.

As soon as Gemenes saw Nihi'lir, a wave of glee burst through Nihi'lir's emotional barriers. Joy, happiness, and excitement combined together to form the explosive emotion called glee. It wasn't usually to Nihi'lir's taste, but to have it come from his son at seeing him made him appreciate the electric sweetness.

"Oh you guys are here already?" Gemenes opened the door and stood aside. "I'd have come and gotten you if I knew – come in, just starting dinner."

Gemenes had learned well the assassin skills at controlling body language. An average person would never know how maddeningly happy he was.

Nihi'lir fought hard to apply those same lessons to himself – as he was an adult cubi the emotion hit him hard. He did allow himself to smile as he stepped into his son's home.

The front door opened up to a kitchen, an impressively large one. A magical hotbox cooked food on its top-cookers among a line of cabinets all along the wall. A coldbox and icebox sat next to each other – both taller and wider than Gemenes by half. More garlic, maize, and leafy spices occupied his son's roof than their entire homestead had possessed back home.

"Your front door opens to your kitchen?" He arched his brow up at his son.

"It's why none of the demons wanted it." His son shrugged and closed the door. He held up his hand and counted down from three. Then he swung his door open again. There was a red-and-pink alpaca with ibex horns, dressed in tight leather clothes, hand up to knock. "Milda, doll, what brings you here?"

Amusement and annoyance in equal measure rolled off Gemenes as he talked. Nihi'lir went to the the hotbox and used his tentacles to raise himself up that he could see what was cooking.

His son had rice cooking, and broccoli on another pan to sear.

"I smelled barbecue sauce and wanted to ask...?"

"If you could join us for dinner, sure. You know where the dining room is."

The alpaca skipped away into the house, excitement and hunger wafted off her like smoke.

Once he'd closed the door, Gemenes joined Nihi'lir by the hotbox. "Making barbecue tempeh with broccoli and rice as sides." He turned his head to smile at his father. "Wanna help with the man's work, or sit in the dining room like a woman expecting to be fed?"

Nihi'lir punched his son in the shoulder playfully, and went to work. He quickly found the tempeh blocks on the counter and began to chop them into strips the thickness of his fingers. "A demon eating a vegetarian dish?" He fanned his headwing and ear on the side his son stood. "And last I looked, you weren't a fan of that either."

"I already have a guest over, and she's vegetarian. My barbecue sauce is so good Milda thinks I'm serving chicken." Gemenes took the broccoli out of the pan to put in aromatic chili oil, along with grated garlic and ginger. It smelled fantastic.

"A vegetarian... a phoenix?" Nihi'lir put some oil in a pan and set it on an unused surface-cooker to heat up.

"Mhm. Owona's got me on the short list to set up alliance with Seme's clan, so I've been getting to know my maybe-bride."

Nihi'lir paused in his cooking to turn to look at his son with narrowed eyes. "Without chaperones?"

Confusion bloomed for a second then immediately became blazing flame of disgust. "Ew, Pa she's a woman! Ugh." Gemenes made a wretching motion. "Gah, almost put me off my meal."

"You're the one who thinks chaperones exist purely to keep the two parties from having sex. Your Ma and I went to slay a cryohydra together the first time they forgot chaperones." Nihi'lir smiled as his gaze drifted away. "Ah. That was a good fight."

"Ew. Not as ew as the sex thing, but still ew."

--

Siar

The Hrienths were an old clan, fifty thousand years of the earth old. Their founder was gone, and they prospered all the same. Few could claim such, fewer were interested in teaching others how they had achieved it.

Siar took in their city-within-a-city, and found herself envious. Owona's clan had nothing of the sort. Inconspicuous villages, steadings, and lives dedicated to live among others were Owona's ways.

Owona's ways were just, and kept their clan safe from those who would seek vengeance for the Shadow Clan's assassinations, sellswording – or worse, demand they sell out their employers. Even so, Siar found it stifling.

She had lived for thousands of years in homes of beige, grey, tan, or cream. She had worn earth-tone clothes. She had spent entire being lifetimes posing as one of them. It felt like she had been muzzled all her days, unable to speak freely. Siar had bitten her tongue while her sweet mother lived, but with her gone it became tiresome to endure.

Her Hrienth greeter, Veld, showed her to a building on the edge of the artificial lake. It was built in the Hishaani style, an obnoxious onion dome on the far side topped with a spire that showed the Hrienth moon with towers in alternating vertical and concave walls as they neared square roofs.

Inside there were servants alight with activity. Interior fittings for magic lamps were in the midst of installation, a chandelier was hauled into the sky. Rugs were unrolled for Siar and Veld to walk upon as they approached, then rolled up behind them – the floors had yet to be waxed.

"We beg your Ladyship' pardon, this building is still under construction in places," Veld turned his head to address Siar as they walked. "The meeting chamber is fully completed, however."

Some discontent must have slipped her leash and registered with his empathic abilities. Siar smiled and released a bit more of her envy. Envy always pleased hosts. "Fret not, I wish me and mine were so powerful to have splendor as this. Incomplete or no, it would be an improvement."

The meeting chamber was vast, all of polished marble, with illusion worked into the stone to increase the perceived space. Siar could tell it wasn't actual spatial magic, there was no accompanying sense of vertigo. A circular dais occupied the centermost part of the room – enormous in its size, with thirteen thrones arranged around its edges.

Upon the dais was embossed an empty hoop with four lines that crooked diagonally at their midst. Two at the half-mark, two at the upper quarter-mark. The recognized symbol for the cubi race.

Five of the thrones were occupied – and elevated from the ground. The thrones were carved into the tops of pillars, which by magic could rise or fall as wished. Differing elevations of the delegates was perhaps used to indicate their position in the hierarchy. Below the feet of each delegate, their clan symbol was embossed upon the throne-pillar.

"My Lords and Ladies," Veld announced to the seated delegates. "The representative of Owona's clan has arrived." He bowed deep and stepped aside for Siar to advance.

Once in the midst of the delegates, Siar fanned her wings and bowed. She had to be admitted to take a throne – it was a mere formality. But one that, if ignored, would spell disastrous results down the line. "Hail, honored ones. I am Siar, Owona's voice and counsel. Will you have me among you?"

"Hrienth raises no objection," spake a violet-winged she-cougar, her hair the same as her wings, her fur in shades of grey, and her glossy gown midnight black.

"Jin raises no objection," spake a pastel yellow and blue-green lizard, decorated with an impressive set of bone-white antlers. There was gold aplenty in their garb, tailored tight to their body. Oddly, the Jin's throne was highest of them all, even above Hrienth's.

"Taun raises no objection," spake a leopard of chartreuse green with yellow spots. He sat well for a man dressed in parade armor on a stone seat with no cushion.

"De'Tialdo raises no objection," spoke a blue-furred, haired, and winged feline dressed in a black dress more ornate than the Hrienth's. Her clan's seat was lowest of the extant thrones.

"I raise no objection," spoke a snow-leopard succubus, two tailed, with her fur – spots and all – set in shades of pink. Red-haired, dressed in a matte black chiton with golden accents. And, most importantly of all, three sets of pristine white-feathered wings. Her throne displayed the symbol of Seme, and to speak as such left only one interpretation.

"Lady Siar of Owona's clan, you may select any throne that pleases you," Veld addressed her.

Intrigued, Siar cast her gaze upon the vacant thrones – aha. She sat herself upon the nearest to Seme's perfect opposite. Her throne rose upon her seating, to sit higher than the De'Tialdo's and lower than Seme's.

Once Veld had left, the meeting proceeded with official business. Droll plan-making about how Siar's relatives would earn their keep, and provide for the community. It ill-suited her to impose upon her descendants as Owona demanded, but it did provide them with skills that could be plied to support themselves.

The universal combat training in her clan made them easily an option for guards, to lessen their dependence upon demons for security.

"Pray, tell me," spoke Seme's avatar well into the meeting. "Why has your honored grandson, who arranged for much of this, not represented your clan prior to this point?"

All eyes turned to Siar. She could tell the truth, and cast disrepute on Owona, or arrange for a lie that would convince no one sufficiently.

The spark of unhappiness in Siar's belly fanned into a flame for a moment.

"Because, he has only ever met two members of our clan." Siar admitted. "It is the way of things in Owona's clan that we seldom meet others of our clan besides our parents, siblings, and children. Even now, I could not tell you how many of mine own siblings possess offspring of their own, let alone anything about them. He could not represent a clan that he has no knowledge of."

It was perhaps the greatest insight their clans would ever have into Owona's. And if they disliked what they saw, perhaps they could persuade Owona to change her ways. After millennia, Siar found she hadn't the energy for it anymore.

"It seems you are deeply discontent with the way of things." Seme continued. She fanned her headwings upward. "Is Owona so intractable?"

"Exactly so." Siar flared her headwings as well. "It is her clan, she has the right to command us." That bone was tossed to Taun's representative – traditionalists, close allies of Owona's. Siar wanted no talk of duplicity to reach Taun's ears, lest she suffer The Avenger's displeasure.

And it was true. Owona had made the change, emerged with the third set of wings. Power transfinite and sole authority were her rewards.

As Siar glanced at Seme's avatar's own set of hip-wings, an idea came to her. Perhaps she should attempt the change as well. Earn those rewards for herself, and her descendants.

--

Nihi'lir Tuler Owona

At dinner, he'd gotten to meet with one of his son's coworkers, the demon alpaca, and met his son's possible first wife.

Her name was Percell, she was an emerald dove phoenix succubus (though she didn't have any green in her plumage). She was yellow-and-black, Nihi'lir could only tell what kind of dove she was by the shape of her beak and her color patterns. Percell was a bounty hunter of Seme's clan, and had a powerful build not unlike Euberta when Nihi'lir first met her.

Like Gemenes, she wore a shirt made of netting, though she had an embroidered dudou top underneath. This prompted a discussion about the nettting-shirts – they were made from threads with magic placed upon them.

Specifically? That the netting couldn't be cut. So any slash attack made on them would be unable to do devastating damage. No protection against piercing or being bludgeoned, but still a massive advantage.

There was a moment when someone banged on his son's front door to demand 'a rematch' which provided some entertainment. The dining room was immediately down the hall from the kitchen, and lined with windows – they saw Gemenes run roughshod over a demon ferret and force the normally ferocious beast to submit.

By way of giving Gemenes his trousers and walking away with his odd loincloth on display for everyone.

As the one who had trained Gemenes in hand-to-hand combat, he could see obvious rust in his son's form. Mistakes he made in certain moves, which Nihi'lir recognized from the same mistakes Gemenes had made learning them.

Nihi'lir didn't say anything when the ladies were present, not even when he was presented the trousers since 'they were his size'. They were, but that wasn't the point. He waited until the ladies had left for the evening before he even started to muster the energy to talk to his son about serious topics.

It was stymied by an immediate unashamed hug from his taller son as soon as they had left.

Gemenes hugged Nihi'lir tight enough that he couldn't slip out easy, but not so tight he couldn't breathe. "I was afraid they'd never let us see each other again." Relief tinged with fear, hope that both wanted to dim itself and shine ever brighter – his son's emotions were a mess.

Alarm bells rang like chimes in Nihi'lir's head, but he put that aside and returned the hug as best he could. "Owona had to tell you we were coming, right?"

His son released him and flipped his hand dismissively. "Yeah, but she's been spending the past eight years debating if she should have me killed or not, and whether she should let me go with you guys when Siar ascends."

Nihi'lir's previous concerns were forgotten as he processed – Siar was planning to become a tri-wing? Owona was weighing the value of having his son killed?

Rage threatened to light in his belly – he stamped it out. His son needed assurances, not to see his father fly into a homicidal fury. That his son wasn't angry helped – Nihi'lir fed off his calm. Siar, however, would be upset at the news – if she wasn't aware already.

"I can tell you right away, the decision isn't hers to make." Nihi'lir lifted himself up with his wing-tentacles until he was eye-level with his son. "It's yours. When Siar ascends," he went with the same certainty Gemenes had displayed, "even if Owona invests enough power in you to keep you from automatically transitioning, you can be adopted in to the new clan. You don't have to worry about that – I won't leave you behind, whatever happens."

Other creatures and beings had so many words to describe love, long essays, entire books on the subject. But cubi who were creatures of emotion could describe love in exacting detail, according to its type. Love started when loneliness stopped, as the bard Quoar put it.

He felt that in Gemenes, a deep loneliness that Nihi'lir's words helped erode. In the space where that loneliness had been was love.

It no longer seemed appropriate to chastise his son from how rusty he'd gotten at combat. Another hug was called for, and administered. At least the emotional moment wasn't punctuated by his son's headwings popping for yet more awkward conversations.

Pop!

"Euberta, when I get down there I'm going to kick your mangy ass for pulling this shit on me again," Nihi'lir muttered as he felt his headwings brush his son's. That was going to be a whole thing.

"Hate to tell you but she's not down there," Gemenes muttered back. "Also, if you tell anyone I popped from a hug...."

"Me telling anyone that is equally as likely as your mother being in paradise, young man."

--

Glossary:

T'Leylu Geofront: An egg-shaped geofront far from the center of Telmun City. Originally used as water storage by the insectis, only one third of the geofront's ground is available for habitation, the other two thirds are occupied by a lake. The geofront's walls are used to increase available housing space.
Dilmun Geofront: A geofront adjacent to the center of Telmun City. Used primarily by demon or demon-blood residents for housing. Mostly urban, receives very little rainfall.
Central Geofront: The main center of Telmun City, where the primary lake is located, as well as all governmental buildings.

---

Aww shit, it's cuberty time!

[Chairtastic]

Gemenes Journal #9

---

Translated from Illyrian.

--

First time we're going outside braille!  Woo!

Gil was so upset by his booty shorts, until he tried them on.  He still hasn't had the heart to tell his family he prefers his feline form to his avian, partly because it can wear tighter clothes.  I guess being a really poofy bird would have that happen.

Percell came by for dinner, and guess who also showed up?  Pa!  Honestly surprised he was close enough to Mostalsia to get caught up in the relocation order.  Had my cold dead heart growing three sizes this day.

Milda joined in of course because I can't cook with barbecue sauce without her demanding a portion.  It gives me a convenient carrot to dangle in front of her for future use, so I let it slide.

Vahru came by, demanded a rematch, and I got Pa some leather pants he can rock if he wants to.  Lucky guy has his clan mark on his rib cage -- can cover that up with any shirt.

He wasn't happy with how I was fighting, and neither have I been.  If I take these demon fights seriously and kill one of them, suddenly I'm a threat.  They come with gloves off -- and that'd be fun except.  If I do it first, they win.  They pressed me to do it.  But by beating them non-lethally, humiliating them day in and day out, I'm offending their pride.  Aras has had to be physically stopped from taking a swing at me.

An incubus shouldn't be strong enough to beat them as I do, according to them.  And if they get frustrated by that enough to take the fight seriously -- I can respond in kind without any loss of face.

I'm fairly certain the beings in Telmun think this is bizarre demon courtship, or something.  I've seen some of the kids start mimicking my tactics, at least.  May have unintentionally developed a bullying tactic.  Sales for my lava-lavas have gone up, either way.

Once the ladies left, Pa and I had a heart to heart.  It was nice talking with someone who really cared again.  I've been living among demangelic Mean Girls for years now, and Percell is still making her mind up on if she could bear to raise kids with me.

Having met myself, multiple times, I'm not going to ask her to rush her decision just because I'm lonely.

During our heart to heart, I popped.  Got my second set of wings -- can hear thoughts and gobble up emotions.  Pa taught me how to set up an emotion filter and how to fine-tune my mind shield now that I can receive instead of just transmit.

I'm going to need to meet Siar soon, both as introductions and to arrange for teachers to start on cubi training right away.  Some observations I've noticed, now that I'm fully grown:  Cubi shapeshifting starts in the wings -- they're the specialized organs for it, and as I get older that will gradually work into my whole body.  Just like the headwings act as transmitters/receivers for thoughts and emotions, the backwings have some transmission/reception abilities too -- I suspect magic.

Could by why Merlitz and other elemental mages get elemental wings when they're casting heavyweight magic.  Wings represent a connection to magical energies.  Zingauru's theories on magic indicate such, at least.

Pa didn't ask, but I know he wants to ask me to move to T'Leylu.  It'd be easier for learning, I'd be safer and closer to family.  I'd also be trading Mean Girls whose grudging respect I've earned, and random strangers that at least have positive interactions with me for Mean Girls I have no idea how to act around, and people who've only seen what I do and grown fearful.

Apparently cubi don't appreciate my clapback skills.  Such a shame.

There, I'd be less lonely in one respect because Pa would be there -- but I'd be even more so in every other aspect.

Here, the neighbors know when to knock on my door and ask politely if I can help fix their kids' sprained ankles, or ask Ea about fixing the roads.

Shouldn't make the decision right now anyway.  I have to meditate and find out what emotions I have affinities for.  SAIA won't be around for a while to let me take some tests and find out.

Owona had better wait for me to get some progress on that before she comes in for the traditional 'you got headwings now' chat.  Or I will go right for those cankles with all my new wing-tentacle teeth.

---

[Chairtastic]

Chapter Ten: Brain Bleed

---

Telmun City, 8538 Years before DMFA

Siar

Most of the time, she did not meet with her descendants until they were older – usually in their early years, the earliest being five. Many were the result of their being parents deaths, as beings were wont to do, and the cubi parent being busy in their clan service period.

Siar had fourteen direct children in her life, half of which still lived. She had thirty grandchildren, ten of which still lived. Out of twenty-one great-grandchildren, only one still lived. And, at present, she had twenty-two great-great-grandchildren all of whom were alive when last she looked.

The mortality rate for assassins, sellswords, and wandering adventurers was not conducive to a vast family. She had come to the decision she would not fly off to coo over every babe long ago – to spare herself the pain on hearing of the little one's death.

She had been in the midst of examining the aerie awarded to her, significantly larger than her descendants', from what she heard tell, when her youngest came to her to present his firstborn.

Siar followed Nihi'lir, and felt for his emotions. He was agitated, hopeful, fearful, on the precipice of rage, confused, and yet felt safe all the same. She noted, for the first time, that her son had increased the amount of black in his fur. He used to be mostly red with black accents, but that had reversed in the nearly three decades he'd been away.

It looked like he wanted to become solid black, as his wings and hair had begun to darken at their edges.

"He brought some gifts, by the way," Nihi'lir told her as they walked. "He helped invent a new type of fabric made from bamboo, and he wanted you to have a couple bolts – before it gets popular."

"...What?" Fabric? From bamboo? "Bamboo the plant? The plant stronger than iron?"

"Yep – he works with a tailor in the city to produce it."

Siar tried to process that as they navigated the doorless abode's galleries to the vestibule. It was a balcony that extended away from the cavern wall – where plants and ponds were arranged to recreate Owona's symbol when seen from above.

On the outermost edge, overlooking the city, was a raccoon incubus. His wings were batlike, and blood red as Nihi'lir's were. His fur was natural raccoon fare, and he dressed in glossy red fabrics. Under one arm were six bolts of fabric, red, blue, green and yellow, magenta, cyan.
He stood with his back to them, his backwings folded over his chest like a cape. An ear flicked at their approach.

Siar felt anticipation from him, fear that roiled with hope until they became a messy foamy substance. Anxiety, energy thrown at possible futures without end, and annoyance were unexpected.

"Gemenes, this is your grandmother. Siar, this is Gemenes." Nihi'lir fanned his wings and stepped aside.

Her grandson turned to face her – he had his father's eyes, with the clan's usual black sclera. While she remained standing, he went into a one-knee bow, and presented the bolts of cloth to her.

"Tribute for you, your ladyship," his voice had a twang, like his mother. "Take these, products of my work here in this settlement, as a taste of what I can offer."

Siar hated that scripted dialogue required for ritual presentations. Owona's history as a mercenary boiled over into their very language for talking to each other. She approached and lifted the topmost bolt – red, her favorite color.

"This is made from bamboo, is it?" She felt the bolt, and noted its softness. The softness was greater than Hishaani silks, than Cryshield cottons, almost cloud-like. "How is this done?"

"It requires adult bamboo, and involves the shoots being shredded, treated with chemicals, and pulped." Her grandson raised his eyebrows, ears, and headwings. "It is satisfactory?"

"...Pending a tailor's opinion of this fabric, yes." Siar took the bolts of fabric and teleported them to her chambers with a thought. "Rise, let me look at you properly." When he did, Siar walked around him with her eyes narrowed. "You fold your backwings, why?"

A wave of pain, very old, rolled from her grandson like a wave – with frothing peaks of fear. He had a mind shield in place, so she couldn't see the images or hear the words of his thoughts clearly – but she could pick up a general impression.

A winged figure, bat-winged like him, stood still in a chamber while someone circled him as she did Gemenes. Once directly behind the winged figure, the circling person used great strength to physically rip the bones out of the wings.

Siar was dismayed. Her grandson thought she would attack him for no reason? Who would have – she answered her own question before she finished asking. Owona.

"I see." She glanced at Nihi'lir, and felt subdued confusion float off him like smoke. "I am Siar, known to some as the Wicked Witch of Lostkeep Island. I've done terrible things, often further than what was asked of me, to make a name for myself. It's... unorthodox, for our clan, to make a name for yourself. To have a reputation." Siar ceased her circling to stand in front of her grandson. "I found it most useful to cultivate a negative one."

Kinship, a peculiar emotion that coiled like vines, reached out to her from her grandson. She returned it in kind.

"I'm told you've cultivated a reputation as well. Come into my parlor, and tell me about yourself. As much as I like talking about myself, it's polite to offer a guest the first go-around."

They talked for a while, the three of them. She learned Gemenes hadn't kept to his training well because he was bombarded with play-fights from the demons in his neighborhood and at work. Demonic threat assessment said that Gemenes ought to have been easy to defeat, as cubi were weak at combat. It offended their pride that he did not fall within that, so he defeated them with minimal effort.

Siar had to put her foot down about that, since he had reached adulthood the growth of his powers and awareness would diminish his combat effectiveness for at least a year. He would need to throw a fight, take them more seriously, or decline challenges going forward. Perpetual challenges couldn't be allowed to endure.

When she brought up leaving his place of employment, she got an uncomfortable reminder – her grandson wasn't employed, he was indentured. He'd been paying off the ransom originally asked of him out of his wages. The original plan had been to use rewards granted to those who bring in residents to live within the city to pay it off – but a canker in the plan had revealed itself too late.

Most of the cubi who had come credited Owona for their desire to settle. So, the reward would go to Owona or her representative. Which Gemenes was not.

Further, his position as secretary to the head of Telmun's civil government was a greatly desired post. One which Siar would be foolish to waste.

"If I had the threat of 'if you lose I add you to my harem' instead of just humiliating them, it'd be easier," her grandson groused as he sat on his cushion.

Her house had come unfurnished, so she was in the midst of purchasing furniture to fill the space. For seating in the parlor, cushions around the room's central focus – a hookah. Siar and Nihi'lir partook of the hookah, but Gemenes abstained. Wizardweed wasn't to his taste – he preferred medicinal vapors.

Nihi'lir took the hookah stem he smoked from his mouth and exhaled curly smoke as he talked. "You're still on about that? Ten years later?"

"Hey, I've only waited this long because the clan rep you sent told me I had to get married first."

"What devilry do you speak of?" Siar's smoke was all diagonal lines when she took the stem out of her mouth to talk.

"He's had this fantasy about keeping a harem of men, though when last I looked you were going to do it to rampaging creatures?" Nihi'lir adjusted himself to lay on his stomach, then put the stem back in his mouth to smoke.
"I haven't been an adventurer for years, and if I were I likely wouldn't have met the girl all y'all are considering hitching me to." Gemenes crossed his arms and tossed his head back.

"Don't talk like hill folk in front of your grandmother, young man."

"Hate to break it to ya, Pa, but I am hill folk."

Siar had taken a deep breath of the hookah and breathed out conjoined hoops of smoke from her nose. "As the representative Owona's appointed, I'll override that restriction," she pointed at her grandson. "Make the threat. But make good on it, should they proceed anyway. I will speak to Seme, and ensure her greatest of granddaughters knows our purpose."

Nihi'lir voiced his displeasure with a groan at the same time Gemenes pumped his fist in victory. "An academic issue, anyway. Since you, young man, need a remedial lesson on combat."

By Siar's command, the two descendants of hers began that remedial lesson shortly thereafter. She could tell Nihi'lir wasn't wrong to believe Gemenes needed the lesson, but it wasn't so dire as he made it seem.

Gemenes practiced the deflection form – it emphasized meeting an opponent's strike with just enough power to redirect it, which left the attacker off-guard. While Nihi'lir practiced the mobility form typically used by assassins – it emphasized circular motions to get around attacks and opponents, then to attack from the rear.

Both forms lacked lethality, were reactive, and what Siar would consider the inferior forms of combat. She would have to make time eventually to teach her kin the importance of the breaking form. It galled her to impose on them like that, but it was necessary.

If none of them knew how to fight to kill, that would spell disaster.

--

Ea Gnashir

After a week, nothing had happened yet in regards to the Owonas in her city. Gemenes' behavior was not indicative of the clan as a whole, it seemed. He was forced to take a couple days off to establish a chain of command with his clan and receive instruction on cubi matters. Apparently such matters included the manifestation of his second set of wings.

This time away from her secretary gave Ea the chance to observe the problem and see if it merited dealing with. It was clear, the cubi wanted her city. But if they also had the strength to just take it, they would have by that point. Logically, it stood to reason that they needed time to build their strength up.

So she needed to build her strength up faster. She could talk to the family heads in the other clans to encourage flings or arranging marriages. Half-breeds would be motivated to earn their elder's approval by jumping when called upon. Beings bred ten times faster than demons, who were faster than other creatures.

As long as she could convince the families to take on the half-breeds and not leave them, it could go well.

An interesting note eventually came across her desk, however. The Owonas who had come to Telmun were taking on bodyguarding jobs from the looks of things. Partly, according to her sources, this was to allow the Hrienths to finish construction of physical paths to their homes so wingless people could come and go.

And another was that ever increasing numbers of young beings had taken to mimic the antics of Gemenes and Ea's relations. Fights with clothes as the trophy. There was money to be made guarding others from challengers.

The interesting aspect of it was the possibility she saw in it. Adventurers could defeat demons, and most adventurers were beings. It was a common cause of death for half-breed demons.

Having an adventurer guild chapter in her city was impossible – but she could amass power by taping into that potential from a different direction.

A summons was written up for some of the architects and certain former adventurers to discuss the nascent plan in Ea's brain. Because the construction of her balcony was too loud to beckon Gemenes to retrieve the scrolls, she had to take them to him herself.

When she stepped out of her office, she immediately put her free hand to the gap between her eyes. Another of her nephews stood across from Gemenes in the hall adjacent to Ea's office.

She quickly cross-referenced who the offending nephew was. Slate blue and aquamarine plumage with an iridescent bronze band of feathers around his neck, black spots on his wings – Ramuh. From Ya's second marriage to a Decapitante.

"Look, pretty boy, rules have changed." Gemenes had his hands on his hips, his chest out, and a smirk on his face. "You wanna scrap? We do it serious-like. Claws, blood, consequences. Got a lady my gram-gram wants me to marry, gotta impress her family – you know how it is."

Ea snapped her fingers before Ramuh could blindly accept. "You two want to fight – take it outside!" She pointed to the door and dropped the scrolls on Gemenes' desk. "And that counts as your fifteen minute break."

This was a new development. New entertainment – Gemenes had never changed the rules for his scraps before. Ramuh was probably not wise enough to realize the danger he was in, and continued the challenge anyway.

Ea stood from her incomplete balcony and watched the two young men circle each other. Her office was part of a grander structure, a central building with archways to eight towers that went all the way to the roof. At its center was a deep pool of water that went down to less than ten meters of the chamber below. Some insectis design philosophy was at play, but it was lost on Ea.

"As the challenged," Gemenes announced as a crowd began to form. "I set the consequences, and make the first move. Are we in agreement?"

"We are," Ramuh responded, and fanned his wings.

"Should you fall to me, I will subjugate you and induct you as the first of my harem for a number of years equal to your age at this time." Gemenes fanned his wings wide. "Should I fall to you, I will tell you a secret of magic that will help you become strongest in your lineage. Acceptable?"

"...You're a weirdo. Fine." Ramuh flexed his hands, turned his fingers into claws. "Make your first move."

"The agreement is struck. Let battle be joined."

Ea expected Gemenes to lead with one of his pseudo-gish techniques. A combination of magic and physical attack that would disable his opponent quickly.

Instead, Gemenes lifted his hand to his mouth and bit into his hypothenar muscles. The blood he drew worked against gravity and coated his hand. To those who didn't know better, it would seem like he'd put on a red glove.

"Your turn," Gemenes sing-songed.

Ramuh launched himself at Gemenes, one arm pulled back tor a diagonal slash.

The incubus sidestepped the slash and jabbed at Ramuh's rib cage with his red hand.

Ea's keen ears picked up a faint sizzle sound before she saw Ramuh recoil from the blow – a hole burned in his shirt, and his plumage underneath askew. 'Ah,' she thought to herself, 'he prepared a corrosive spell with his free move.'

Ramuh's combat doctrine was to meet the enemy's strength with his own, and overwhelm them. Powerful punches, kicks, and slashes all worked toward that goal. But Gemenes' combat doctrine was to deflect. With his clean hand he would meet Ramuh's attacks just enough to control the momentum, then lash out with his bloody hand to counter.

However, her nephew was not outclassed in the fight. His endurance meant he could put more energy into attacks than Gemenes could afford to spend. Ramuh's hardened skin provided great defense, while Gemenes relied entirely on deflection and his bewitched shirt.

Gemenes' net shirt couldn't be cut, any time Ramuh actually got his claws in the raccoon he couldn't create long gashes to damage muscles. Worse, Gemenes knew healing magic and could fix himself up in seconds if given time.

"Too much momentum," Gemenes cooed as Ramuh took to the air to try a diving kick. He calmly stepped aside and jumped when Ramuh hit the ground so the minor shockwave he created wouldn't affect him.

Ramuh had gone into the ground up to his waist, and found himself stuck.

As they had fought, Gemenes had collected all the blood spilled by himself into an orb that floated around his bloody hand. That orb was then promptly tossed into the cracked sandstone all around Ramuh.

"Right, give up?" Gemenes folded his hands behind his back, just out of Ramuh's reach.

"No!" Ramuh clawed at the stone to try and dig himself free. The blood that filled the cracks all around him didn't seem to catch his notice. When digging wouldn't get himself free, he collected mana in his hands and fired a bolt of black lightning at Gemenes.

Quickly blocked by a barrier of interlocking triangles. Defensive magic Ea had taught Gemenes. Contiguous barriers were easier to make, but once damaged tended to fail all at once. She'd had the theory that a barrier made up of many parts would be overall stronger, as it could survive partial breaking.

A theory proven correct as Ramuh burst part of the barrier and burned the wrist of Gemenes' right wing away.

In seconds, literal seconds, Gemenes' good wing had unraveled into four tentacles, two of which ended in monstrous heads. The heads resembled hooded cobras, but the face was too squashed – and they had three eyes to the usual too.

Those tentacle-heads launched at Ramuh with fury and began to bite into him, while the naked tentacles merely slashed him up.

Only Ramuh's hardened skin saved him from being filleted by the incubus' tentacles. Even so, he came out of the experience with deep lacerations, bite marks, and scared from the suddenness of it.

"Sorry about that," Gemenes growled with a wide smile. "I'm usually in far more control of myself when I get hurt. But parts of me just respond to rage so much quicker than I'm used to." He stroked one of the triclops cobra heads, and willed them to merge back into a wing. "So. Not asking anymore. Give up."

Ramuh cowered with his wings and arms protecting his head. "Alright. I give."

"Awesome." With a snap of his fingers, the blood in the sandstone cracks forced the stone to move. Gemenes had widened the hole so that Ramuh could climb out. "Glad to have you on the team, Ramuh. Good fight. Go tell your parents what you agreed to, pack your things, and be at my place by the end of my shift. Or we'll have this talk again."

Ea considered what she'd just seen as she watched Ramuh fly off, and Gemenes began to heal himself. She'd just seen an adult, if young, demon lose to an incubus new to his adult powers. That same incubus had been holding back the whole fight, and not used techniques that had easily got him victories for years.

Perhaps she'd been wrong about Seme being the death she invited in by the front door. Perhaps her death would come at the raccoon's hands, unless she avoided it. Ramuh hadn't been a bad fighter. Inexperienced, cocky, but he had the technical skills. Had he not locked himself in one spot, he could have possibly won before Gemenes got serious.

But the very first time Ramuh had done meaningful damage to the incubus, rather than devolve into a ranting lunatic or screaming about pain -- Gemenes had responded with vicious reprisal.

On reflection, Ea realized Gemenes hadn't reacted to the lightning bolt through his wing except to maul her nephew.

She left the balcony and her office to stand beside Gemenes' desk. When he arrived, the raccoon's wing was skeletal where it had burned through, but sparkles of red magic indicated an ongoing healing spell.

Without a word, Gemenes sat at his desk and started on the paperwork for the day.

"You'll treat him well?" She asked. It ultimately mattered little, Gemenes could have killed Ramuh and none of the family would have objected. They lived a dangerous life, death was but one fate that could befall them.

"Provided he behaves." Gemenes didn't so much as look at her. "Why do you care?"

"Because he's only twenty-three. By your agreement, he'll be released once he's forty-six, and then I will be obliged to help him seek vengeance if he wishes it."

"Ooh, ominous." Gemenes smiled at his paperwork, still not a single glance toward Ea. "Maybe I should treat him so good he decides to stay with me when he's released. Also? Triangles might not be the best way to go for that barrier spell – I'm going to try squares next time."

"Just don't accept any other challenges like that today – unless you want to use your lunch break."

She left, back to her office with the construction workers building the first of two balconies. Regardless of her suspicions, the wheels of government needed to turn. Though she dared hope her niblings would learn from their cousin's fate and leave well enough alone.

Foolish, in hindsight.

--

Glossary:

Cryshield: Capital city of the Cryshield Republic, the northernmost major port in Comia Atoll. Has the most trade with the various continents of Furrae out of the entire atoll, even more than Hishaan. Known to practice being slavery.
Wizardweed: A naturally magical plant that can be smoked to stimulate mana production and offer a psychedelic experience in large doses. Toxic unless prepared appropriately. The smoke takes a random shape once it escapes the lungs.
Medicinal vapors: A water-soluble drug known to improve lung function after inhalation. Frequently used to treat lung damage from smoking, or help the lungs clear debris from their interior. Creates a mint-like effect when taken for recreational use.
Deflection form: One of the three base forms of Owona's martial arts. Emphasizes survivability by redirecting enemy attacks until the opponent is exhausted.
Mobility form: One of the three base forms of Owona's martial arts. Emphasizes agility, physical quickness, and being in constant motion so as to frustrate the opponent.
Breaking form: One of the three base forms of Owona's martial arts. Emphasizes physical strength, using precise blows to injure the opponent in specific ways.

--

Cast:

Ramuh Decapitante: Race: Demon phoenix. Species: Passenger pigeon. Age: 23. A foolish young man who picked the wrong day to be brave. Knows magic, but only uses it when backed into a corner due to poor control. Favored element: Lightning.

---

For those who're wondering, slate blue is navy blue with a bit less black in it. At least, on Ramuh it is.

Bet when I said Owona's tentacle heads were blue volcano mythos, y'all thought they'd be male heads, huh? But I showed you! Hah!

Five internet cookie to the first person who gets the reference in the early parts of the chapter.

[VAE]

I said so in chat, but nice call-out to Soul Reaver.

[Chairtastic]

Important Things to Remember #1:  Remember socks First, shoes Second.

---

• Nihi'lir Tuler Owona and Euberta Tuler have a child named Gemenes Tuler Owona, a chairly young man.
• This happened in an Amazon community where men were expected to be more submissive, take care of children, and handle domestic tasks.
• The women of the Amazon community were expected to be boisturous, quick to action, and to take part in the whaling of skeljúngr.
• Comia Atoll, where this took place, is a massive ring of land around a shallow sea.  It is made up of four islands, one of which is Lostkeep Island where the story began.
• Lostkeep Island's rural populations mostly live in underground communities build around cenotes.
• Giant gryphons, kaiju-sized monsters, lurk in the sky making flying a risky manuever despite the number of people with wings in this setting.
• Say it with me: Furrae is not safe.  It is colorful, and deadly.  Treat her with respect.
• Society is divided into magical beings (creatures) and non-magical ones (beings).
• There are odd implications about the race of Gemenes, Euberta, and their raccoon relatives.  Fuckery might be at play.
• Euberta Tuler, an old woman, does a substandard job of raising her son for the limited time she even interacts with him.
• Nihi'lir is a pretty decent dad, odd because his cubi clan is not known for familial connections.
• All cubi have a clan mark, which they cannot affect with shapeshifting and signifies their connection to their clan.
•     Nihi'lir's is on is ribcage on the right side.
•     Gemenes' is on his left calf muscle.
• Euberta eventually gets tired of being elderly, and solicits Nihi'lir for magical boosts so that she can go on one last whaling trip.  She later commits suicide-by-whale to die with honor according to her Amazon culture.
• Owona Clan has allies, they are Taun Clan, Jin Clan, Hrienth Clan, and De'Tialdo Clan.
•     Taun is a clan of soldiers, specializing in tactics and warfare.
•     Jin is a clan of healers, specializing in medical care.
•     Hrienth is less a clan and more a culture, due to their founder's death.
•     De'Tialdo is a clan of artisans, specializing in the heights of civilization.
• Owona Clan are primarily mixed between sellswords, assassins, and adventurers.
•     Nihi'lir and Gemenes are both assigned to be assassins, and are sent for training to that end.  Nihi'lir goes among the clan, Gemenes is sent to an adventurer school.
• Lostkeep Island is part of a nation called Mostalsia, which has the port city of Pudrock as their capital.
• Gaia De'Tialdo, the architect of the school, conveys Owona's orders.  So begins her torment.
• Gemenes first expresses his desire to create a harem of pretty men.
• Mostalsia and neighboring countries practice ancestor worship as the main religion.
•     A cult based on an alleged mutual ancestor, Smotli, has begun to emerge and result in violence/persecution of people not descended from him.
• It is believed Comia Atoll was formed by the Fae having an argument.
• Gemenes meets Illyria Scorcros at adventurer school, they become friends despite their clan's lack of political connection.
• Illyria is a healer, who wished to learn how to fight.  An exchange of education is established as the start of their friendship.
• The adventuring guild at this time has four primary tracks.
•     Marksman, who specialize in ranged combat without magic.
•     Warriors, who specialize in melee combat without magic.
•     Spellcasters, who specialize in magic.
•     Assassins, who specialize in sneaking and using magic to kill.
• Scorcros is heavily implied to be the precursor clan to Fa'Lina.
• Illyria and Gemenes team up with a warrior, Themis Riken, for their adventuring.
• Gemenes says no way, no how, is he ever going to Hishaan.
• Their first assignment is to guard a fort alongside other adventurers.
• A giant gryphon dying in the area, called Gyo'Oh, poses some difficulty.
• Gemenes meets Owona, it does not go well.
• It is revealed Siar is Gemenes' paternal grandmother and is not yet a tri-wing.
• Owona is vexed by the chairly nature of Gemenes and needs to ponder what to do.
• While investigating Gyo'Oh, a demon alpaca attacks.
• Illyria and a guest party member are able to escape, but Gemenes and the demon alpaca are eaten by the dying gryphon and presumed dead.
• They're not dead.
• Gemenes is kept as a hostage by the demon alpaca's family for two years.
• They live in an abandoned insectis hive, trying to build it into a great city.
• While chatting with Owona, it is revealed she never wanted to be a tri-wing.  Her emotional distance from her family is from having it thrust on her unexpectedly.
• Ea Gnashir, an angel related to demons by marriage, has the bright idea to take Gemenes into her employ so he can work off his ransom.
•     She comes to regret this decision.
• Smotli persecution forces thousands of persecuted beings and creatures to Telmun City for a better life underground.
• Among them are many cubi clans.
• Seme Clan arrives in totality, including their tri-winged founder.
• The cubi clans plan to eventually supplant Telmun's demangelic leadership.
• Jin Clan have already become vital for the city, as they have the most medical professionals and the training to increase that number.
• Hrienth Clan have approached being vital, as they bring in vital services such a banking.
• Siar is revealed to be unorthodox for an Owona.  Not just because she has normal-looking eyes.
• Nihi'lir proves again he is a good parent by explaining that Gemenes could be adopted into Siar's Clan even if he's not allowed to go naturally.
• Gemenes, being an incubus, is frequently challenged by demons on the belief that he should be easy to defeat.
•     He is not, in fact, easy to defeat.
• Eventually it gets to the point where Siar authorizes him to take challengers into his harem to force them to get serious or back off.

[Chairtastic]

Gemenes Journal #10

---

Translated from zẖꜣ n mdw-nṯr.

--

I've put Ramuh in one of my template magical homes -- basement, ground floor, first floor. It's a one bedroom, one bathroom, with some additions.  The template didn't quite work so well?  The bathroom is on the ground floor behind the library when I'd intended it to be on the first floor.

Ramuh was alright with the space though -- it's big enough to have guests over if he wants 'em, it gives him plenty of room to expand his horizons, and he can keep it after his time in the harem's done.

I put his home in a wind chime, specifically his house is in the striker.  I've got it in the kitchen so he can smell when I'm cooking food and I can smell when he is.

He's alright with the work uniform I have for him, it's not terribly revealing as far as harem garb goes.  Topless with a lava-lava, and whatever he wants for unmentionables/footwear. I'm going to set up a dinner with Percell so she can meet him, and give her opinion.

Ideally?  She decides to get a lady harem going.  I don't know if bounty hunting puts you in a situation where you get to keep people for long stretches, but maybe if someone doesn't pay up?

If I have a harem of cute guys, Percell deserves a harem of cute girls.  Maybe we can get members of my harem and members of her harem into relationships after they finish their time.

Ramuh's a cute guy -- I still don't know enough about birds to tell what kind he is?  But his mammal form is also cute.  Surprisingly, his form isn't a feline like Gil's.  He's a canine kinda phoenix.  Floppy earred dog with lightning powers.

Anyway, interesting developments regarding Siar.  She's encouraged a lot of our clan members in the city to take on bodyguarding jobs, which gets them out of T'Leylu.  I'm told that it legitimately will take a while for the Hrienths to get physical roads up to their aeries, so there is at least a fig leaf.

But mostly?  It's being done to show how we compare to demons.  Let the beings see what we offer and make reasonable comparisons.

I'm going to hopefully have a template house I can shove into something mass produced, so my aunts, uncles, and cousins don't all have to rely on their employers housing them -- or just have a place they can go to get away from their bosses.

Ancestors know I would not have lasted this long living with Ea.

So, did meditation and found out my affinities.

Natch, I've got a solid affinity for rage and misery.  Confusion is also aggressively tasty, but its tangled up with the rage and misery -- I get the feeliing (heh) that they're related somehow.  Total aside but you have no idea how jarring it is to write in hieroglyphics that were lost to history in most of my Earth-lives.  Back to business, I've got minor affinities for lust and love.  To quote the Heavy, "Not big surprise."

My biggest affinities, though?  Greed, desire, hunger.  I can't tell if they're bound up in each other or if they're the same emotion.  Hunger is like pain, a weird grey area of physical sensation and emotion.  Fear is tasty, but I don't have an affinity for it.  At least not yet.  Maybe I can grow one?

I don't have the required training to string all these together to say what career I should pursue based off these affinities.

But right now I can tell Ramuh skipped lunch after our fight, so I'm going to start on dinner.  Ciao.

---

Be careful describing yourself as a snack around cubi with hunger affinities.  Strange things tend to happen.

[Chairtastic]

Chapter Eleven: Purely Pulmonary

---

Telmun City, 8538 Years before DMFA

Gaia De'Tialdo

Telmun wasn't a city proper, not like how Hishaan, Cryshield, or Klurid were. They had the population, but they lacked infrastructure and industry. It was most evident in how the civil government didn't have the resources to hire Gaia for her architect work.

Once the adventurer school in Pudrock advised her it wasn't safe for her to continue working there, she'd returned to Hishaan for a much-needed vacation. Then a faction of the Hrienth Clan moved to Telmun and offered De'Tialdo Clan a massive sum of money for Gaia's services.

At first she'd been upset at the development, but then her dear auntie showed her the figure the Hrienths had paid. That he first project would be to design a bank only served to sweeten the deal.

Gaia loved to design governmental buildings like banks, city-halls, and postal offices. They let her flex her skill, push things just a bit and make the engineers responsible for building her works hate her.

She had a habit of designing things just barely feasible to force development of new techniques. That was how the De'Tialdo Clan stayed indispensable in Hishaan – they did not make do with what they had, they pushed ever onward.

The vertical construction gave her plenty of opportunity to perfect a new architectural technique she had on paper for decades: the cantilever. So many aeries needed construction, she'd gotten more than enough to use it in Hishaan.

Gaia didn't interact much with most of her clan mates also hired by the Hrienths, save Pegas – a city planner. He designed the Hrienth's fortress city for them, Gaia would design individual buildings. It's how they'd known to start with a bank.

She had furnished her clan mates and herself with magical homes that they kept in egg amulets placed in hidden spots for each of them. There was no way to betray each other's location if they didn't know, after all.

Gaia had hidden hers near the apex of T'Leylu Geofront, in a hollow of a root that hung down from around the edge of the sinkhole. Rain and mist obscured the area, so she had little suspicion it would ever be found.

If it was? She could teleport to it. Magic was wonderful.

However, while her hiring rates were outside Telmun government's price range – her consultation rates weren't.

Local architects in Dilmun and Central reached out to her to consult on designs they had in mind in the weeks after Owona's clan arrived. What they were building? Arenas, coliseums, and lecture halls – all to creature specifications.

It was interesting information, but she wasn't paid to spy – so only the De'Tialdo ruling council got the intelligence on what she'd been consulted on. Otherwise, she pointed out flaws or design errors and collected her gold dollars.

She sometimes saw Gemenes in T'Leylu, but always near the Seme or Taun aeries. He seemed to interact with Taun's representative to the other clans, or one of Seme's phoenix children.

Given that the relevant phoenix was a woman, and she'd known Gemenes to be a rainbow man since they'd met, curiosity eventually got the better of her.

On a day when the rain was heavy, the fog was thick, Gaia found her chance when the yellow-black emerald dove was at a cafe while Gaia passed. Gaia swung by the counter, and placed an order for a drink and coffee caramel crème brulee then stood near the muscular woman as she waited.

Broad-shouldered, thick and meaty limbs, she had the build of a fighter. Her fashion a sleeveless vest over a mesh shirt with a Kluridan dudou in white, incredibly broad trousers that almost looked like a skirt. She had a metal cube on a chain attached to her belt – there was magic on it, but Gaia didn't know what kind.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I've seen you before," Gaia started a conversation with an air of confusion and some falsified emotions for the other succubus to pick up. "Do you happen to know Gemenes Tuler?"

The phoenix succubus was startled, and took a second to glance at Gaia up and down. "Um. Yeah, I hang out with him a bit. You another friend of his?"

Gaia put on a pleasing smile, only somewhat faked. "I'm one of his teachers from Adventurer School, actually." She extended her hand. "Gaia De'Tialdo."

"Percell Venken," was the reply as the phoenix shook her hand. "I'm waiting on the crème brulee, you got time to chat?"

"So am I, wanna find a seat?"

They sat and started to talk while they waited for their orders. The cafe wasn't one of Gaia's works, but it definitely borrowed the Hishaani style, the use of vertical lines and horizontal curves. On T'Lelyu's ground locations, all the floors had subtle convex curves so that water wouldn't pool, and could be guided to storm drains.

"...an architect? An adventuring school hired an architect? To teach?" Percell's incredulity made her miss when their food was delivered to the table. She tried to throw a thank you at the server's back, but they left too soon. "Ah, dangit."

"Yeah, they thought if an architect taught the spellcasters on how to build structures safely, it'd improve survival rates. I was also teaching the warriors how to knock down walls without causing cave-ins." Gaia tapped her spoon against the caramelized topping on her crème brulee. "Oh that's a good noise."

"Oh, you're supposed to tap it first?" Percell picked up her spoon and deflated, sheepish. "I've always just started eating."

"Well you don't have to, but I like breaking up the sugar layer so it's not in big chunks. To do that, I crack the whole thing before I dig in." Gaia tilted her ramekin so Percell could see. "Like that."

"Hmm, lemme try." Percell's musculature would imply she'd struggle with such fine motions, but the opposite was true. She tapped her crème brulee with multiple rapid hits, faster than Gaia could manage. The sound of spoon on caramelized sugar filled the air. "Hmm! That is a pretty nice sound."

"You say you're a bounty hunter? Any specialization?" Gaia showed her the trick where one dragged the spoon around the surface then dug it into the crème brulee without words, and smiled when Percell did so.

"Yeah, I specialize in catching runners. Folks who want to get away rather than fight. Fighters are easy, because if they were good at fighting they wouldn't have a bounty in the first place. We give that work to newbies." Percell shrugged and ate some of her treat. She paused as she considered the difference having many small sugar shards added rather than a few big ones. "But runners can range from folks who are legitimately good fighters but know they stepped in it, to folks who might have sticky problems that made them run."

"So catching runners is harder work overall?"

"Oh yeah, mostly because you don't have the option to kill them if things get hairy." Percell stirred her treat prior to her next bite. "Oh this is good. But, if a bounty hunter's sent after a runner – they're wanted back alive. No ifs ands or buts."

Gaia took a sip of her drink – a dry brandy wine. "Is it wrong that I hope it's a little while before your professional services are needed here?"

"Well, until Pudrock recognizes this place or they develop a court system of their own, I'm effectively unemployed. My clan and friends are looking after me, so I'm able to treat this like a kinda sucky vacation." Percell smiled, one of those 'what can you do' sorta smiles. It looked nice. "What about you? All the work around T'Leylu must have you busy."

"Only in bursts. I design a building, then pass it off to the engineers to actually build while I supervise. A lot of the time I'm doing support work to help speed up the construction, but a lot of the time I'm bored." Gaia looked up at her current project – a pumping station to take T'Leylu's excess water and send it to Central. "Once you get good enough at your job, you streamline until there's lots of rest time."

"Hmm. Maybe you could take on apprentices? A massive headache, but boredom in our race can be dangerous."

"I've put in a request, but no one in my clan's interested at the moment. They're all going into blacksmithing." Gaia shook her head. "I don't know why, no one in my generation does. All the kids just want to be blacksmiths lately."

"Oh! I might actually know the reason for that." Percell's headwings flared with her excitement. "See, Dirdri, biggest port city on the inner side of the atoll? They found a way to make steel that resists rust and corrosion. There's been an explosion of steel on the market because everyone's selling off their old steel to get Dirdri steel instead."

That started a conversation about what so much steel being dumped into international trade would do to their respective businesses. Neither were optimistic it would be a good change in the long run, but in the short term it was fun to watch.

"...Anyway, Gemenes is going to meet me here. We're hoping to talk to our clans about – oh hey, there he is!"

Gaia turned to look over her shoulder and saw Gemenes at the cafe counter placing an order. He had a sour look on his face as he took his drink and approached once waved down.

"Yo," he told them as he took a sip. Curiously, he started to chew afterward.

"Hey," Percell replied. "Long day?"

"Long night, long day. Ramuh decided he liked it, and wanted to keep going all night cause 'you don't need to sleep'. Ugh." He took another sip and chewed it up. "Then Ea's new project had me busy. What about you two, having fun?"

Gaia blushed just a bit at how open Gemenes was about his trysts, but tried to remain friendly. "We're just chatting – ran into each other here, had some crème brulee."

"Oh? Cool, glad you're not being worked to death." Gemenes glanced at Percell. "Want me to leave and come back, or are you good to go?"

"I'm all done." Percell smiled at Gaia. "Was great chatting, but Gemenes and I need to go get our clans to agree on a marriage contract."

That froze Gaia mentally for a second. The closest equivalent she could think of was that someone had just told her the world was a tube. All her thoughts stopped as she tried to parse what she'd just heard.

"...I think you killed her. You shattered her brain and killed her. Here, let me do a manual restart." Gemenes poured some of his drink into his hand and rubbed it off on Gaia's nose before Percell could stop him.

Gaia expected a liquid, or perhaps stew. What she saw on her nose was a slightly damp mass of red spiders each the size of a grain of sand.

He'd been drinking spiders. There were spiders on her face.

There were spiders on her face!

Maniacal raccoon laughter echoed in her ears as brief flashes of panicked thrashing, wing tentacles, and spiders inching their way toward her eyes flashed in front of her.

--

Ea Gnashir

In hindsight, it was brilliant.

The best way to build up power was to build up the strength of her allies. To build up her city's sense of unity. Arenas, sports, bloodsport and combat schools would all allow that. Demons had their affections start after bloodshed, so that would be the best way to encourage her relations to dally with beings and produce a glut of half-blooded and powerfully motivated niblings.

Perhaps it would entice smaller demon families to join – who could tell?

Ea had Milda check in on Ramuh, to make sure he was not being abused – she interrupted the two of them in an all-night spar, seemingly. Ramuh had learned cubi didn't need to eat or sleep and wanted to test his endurance against Gemenes', to mutual satisfaction.

Perhaps that was for the best – having an outlet for energies would tire Gemenes out until he couldn't cause mischief.

Curiously, there was a mouse incubus seen in and around Gemenes' home too. Milda had seen him, and had dinner with him present but she couldn't remember his name.

Ea noted things in the description though – such as how Gemenes and this mouse had similar wings, eyes, and hair colors/textures.

As she sat in her home, in her comfortable robes, rocking on a hammock-chair, and sipping tea, Ea pondered. And plotted. And schemed.

She had an idea of who the mouse was, and had a devilish notion of how she could loop another leash around Gemenes' neck to make him behave and ply the cubi's tricks against them. She'd had to make sure her mind shield also policed her emotions, at least until she had a firm idea.

An entry she'd read in Gemenes' journal years back came to her mind – that his father had requested forbearance until his son manifested his adult powers.

Ea smirked to herself. It would take years to carefully navigate the issue, and ensure she wasn't playing into her newfound rival's hands. But it would give her more security, assuming it worked.

The message went out, sealed so Gemenes couldn't read it before he passed it off to the messengers.

A few days of schedule haggling, and Ea had a guest in her office. Just in time for the completed effect of her first balcony.

She sat in a wicker chair, while her guest sat beside her. Between them, a circular table where they could rest their drinks.

Siar, the Wicked Witch of Lostkeep Island, who had poisoned entire mer cities and laid curses that endured a thousand years, tilted her head to one side when she heard Ea's request.

"You wish to marry one of my descendants?" From her tone of voice, Siar suspected she was being played.

Ea did nothing to disabuse her of the notion. "I am unmarried among my siblings, this rankles them. For a time, I held out hope that I might attract another angel to be my mate – but alas." She shrugged.

"You cannot expect me to believe you merely wish to placate your siblings."

"Lady Siar, you have siblings of your own." Ea's eyes were half-lidded as she let a bit of frustration slip her emotional barrier. "You know how they can be with their whining."

"True." Siar nodded, her gaze a thousand kilometers away. "They do grow... tiresome as decades wear on." Her eyes snapped to Ea's. "But there's more to this." It wasn't a question.

"Indeed. Your clan is presently not isolated in T'Leylu, like the others. Your clan is martial, something my kin respect. Begrudgingly, given how long Gemenes kept teasing them, but even so." Ea kept her eyes locked on the Wicked Witch's. Unafraid. "And I think this would be an excellent way to avoid your clan ever being hired to dispose of me."

"...Your kin thought, for all these years that Gemenes was teasing them?"

A lie, rooted in how people perceived demons. Ea couldn't help but attempt to work flaws into her rival's operating doctrine. "But of course, they could tell there was a better fight Gemenes could give them, and he wouldn't. They were quite frustrated for a while."

Siar leaned back in her wicker chair. "I see. We would need to negotiate things such as naming, children, and dowry traditions – but... an arrangement could be made." Her ear, eyebrow, and headwing on one side rose. "Have any of my kin struck your fancy, or shall I prepare dossiers?"

"Well, I know it's a bit gauche... but I do have a bit of a type. My sisters saw a nice mouse among your kin, fit and gorgeous red eyes." The hook was baited, and laid into metaphoric water. "Is he old enough for marriage?"

The Wicked Witch's mouth twitched. A smile was fought against. But even if she knew it was a hook, the bait was simply too tempting. Siar's face melted into a feline smile.

"He is."

--

Ramuh Decapitante

His new home was in a wind chime. A wind chime that hung near a window in the raccoon's kitchen. It had heavy chimes that produced deep notes when struck, all of which hung from a cap made to resemble a house.

When Gemenes told him that, Ramuh had responded, literally: "You're taking the piss."

Then Gemenes had shown him the magical pocket-house inside. It was pretty big! A cellar, he hadn't known what those were – a couple of small rooms under the house, wild. A large ground floor where the front door had the staircase down and sitting room furniture – the kitchen immediately adjacent, then the dining room adjacent to that.

The second floor had the bedroom, a lab for making potions, and a trophy room. The trophy room back home had been a great spot for storytelling – all his older family members could show off what they contributed.

Gemenes had made it clear he'd built the house with the idea of multiple people living there, but the magic hadn't been cooperative. He was still new to the house-making thing. So the house would be Ramuh's to keep once he'd finished his 'harem time'.

It was weird, being subjugated instead of killed after a lost quote-unquote 'serious' fight. But cubi were weirdos in all other respects, adding another didn't much change the overall weirdo picture.

Gemenes was clear – Ramuh was the first member of his harem, not the only member. And that Ramuh wouldn't strictly be a concubine – he'd have chores to do, and studies to pursue. Apparently in cubi harems, the harem members were also advisors – Ramuh's input on big decisions would be asked.

It seemed like a less intense form of marriage, to be honest. Not terribly bad – he wasn't expected to make kids for a while, but still odd.

Cubi, what could you do?

He had dinner with Gemenes and Gemenes' future wife, they talked, and Gemenes ran the harem uniform by his future wife to make sure she thought it was acceptable for children.

A wrap-around skirt, no shirt or coat, and sometimes shoes. Percell, his 'lord's' future wife, only specified that all harem members needed to wear smallclothes.

There was an awkward moment when Percell and Ramuh had to explain to Gemenes – they weren't the same species. There were differences between doves, Percell, and pigeons like Ramuh.

In revenge, Ramuh challenged Gemenes to an endurance spar. It didn't take long to find out that in a drawn-out fight, or one where Ramuh wasn't off his game, Ramuh would win. It was a bit too late to save him from twenty-three years of subjugation, but hey. Better late than never.

Ramuh handled the boring tasks assigned to him and waited for Gemenes to get back – the raccoon had promised to teach him how to make bread dough that looked and tasted like chicken.

When he heard the door in Gemenes' kitchen and saw movement through the window, he left his magical home to greet the source.

Ramuh's flabbers were utterly gasted when he saw Percell and Gemenes in the kitchen, their clothes all torn up and with evidence of dried blood. "Did you guys get into a fight?"

Gemenes chuckled, low and malicious, as he opened the cold box for a drink. "Nah, ran into one of my teachers. Reminded her how I am as a student."

"Okay? Full disclosure?" Percell narrowed her eyes as she leaned on the wall. "That was funny. It was utterly hilarious. It also made us look like crazy people in front of my clan leader, you dumbass."

Ramuh blinked. Once, twice, thrice. "But you're cubi," he said like he had to inform someone the sky was up. "You're crazy by definition."

Percell turned to him with a glare that could ignite flammable substances. "Unlike us? You need to sleep. Remember that."

Gemenes patted him on the shoulder and put a bamboo cup of tea into his hand. "Good man, telling it how it is. She will one-hundred percent kill you in your sleep if you keep talking like that, though." He passed one to Percell and had one for himself last. "But, it didn't matter much – they agreed to the marriage!"

"Oh!" Ramuh beat his wings, smiling with excitement. "Great! When's the wedding?"

Percell paused in the midst of drinking to look at him with a cocked eyebrow. "Um. We kind of don't have the money or resources for a big wedding ceremony. So... we just had a contract drawn up, got some witnesses, signed in blood."

"Bada bing, bada boom," Gemenes commented as he shifted his hips and hands from side to side.

"I don't know what you did there, but yeah." Percell shrugged. "My clan is still rebuilding, the dowry we get from the marriage is going right into expenses. And Gemenes' family don't do big weddings, even for alliances."

"Now we gotta work out a plan – am I moving to Percell's place, is she moving in, do we move to a different house or different geofront." Gemenes counted off things on his hands in between sips of tea. "Oh, and when we start trying for kids."

"Well, I can't help with most of that – but I can help with the last one!" Ramuh was sad at first that there'd be no wedding, but he cheered up once there was something he could do. "I can cheer you on and clap to keep time." He set his cup down to clap his hands to a solid one-four time.

Percell, in the midst of a drink, promptly choked and started to cough.

Gemenes started to laugh like a maniac.

It took a minute, but eventually Ramuh got the two of them to keep time with their coughing and laughing. It helped when he started slapping Percell's back to keep time rather than clap.

They had no sense of rhythm, but he'd get them sorted out.

--

Cast:

Percell Venken: Race: Phoenix succubus. Species: Emerald dove. Age: 37. A succubus from Seme's clan, previously lived in Steepmaw as a bounty hunter. A big old musclebird, lesbian, prefers a challenging job over a reliable job.

---

Clap! Two three four! Slap! Two three four! Snap! Two three four!

[Chairtastic]

Gemenes Journal #11

---

Translated from Scots Gaelic.

--

Much to the dismay of my savings, Percell doesn't think a one-bedroom home far from her family would be ideal for children.  We're looking at property for sale in Central right now -- lakeside would be ideal, but it's expensive.

I asked her if making a magical home for the kids to live in would be acceptable, she doesn't think it would since it would be me looking after the kids for the most part, and that would leave the actual house empty.

Our contract is for four kids, but they don't count unless they survive to sprout headwings.  Neither of us is in a terrible rush to get started on that -- Percell wants to finish her cubi education, I need to start on mine, so it's for the best.

Percell says Seme's cubi education process takes about fifty years to complete.  Learning the basics of all our powers and abilities.  Pa agrees with her on that count.  Guess the Academy really does innovate and streamline things.  Shapeshifting alone takes twenty years to get down, apparently.  And that's not counting the eighteen years me and Pa have to spend doing specialist assassin training that sets us back on everyting else.

Being blind for nine years, then deaf for another nine, just so I can kill people better?  That's going to suck.

Pa's got it worse, Siar's got a new arranged marriage going on and he's got to hope his wifey will agree to try for babies in eighteen years.

He wanted me to be there, when they put the magic on him to make him blind.  Wanted me to be the last thing he saw before he started the process.

I have made it very clear to Siar and Pa -- I'm hoping that the kids Percell and I have are all Seme clan, because the very thought of bringing more kids into Owona's clan right now makes me want to punch turkeys.

They don't even know what turkeys are.  Barbarians.

Siar is a better grandmother than I expected, worse than I hoped.  She's apparently got an epithet -- the Wicked Witch of Lostkeep Island.  She's a spellcaster primarily, and a master of brewing potions.  She kinda sounds like the voice actress who played Ursula in the Disney Little Mermaid movie too.  Hmm.

There used to be mer living in the inner sea.  Used to be.  Siar brewed a poison that depopulated their cities.  It was mercenary work, some aquatic mythos were being muscled out of their swanky inner sea homes and wanted the mer driven off.

Wish granted.

If I had to guess, her method for ascension to tri-wing status would involve the brewing of a potion.  While most of our clan in the city are working as bodyguards, she's taking up a position at the Jin's hospital.

Speaking of jobs Percell is trying to find work in town -- but the only jobs similar to her skillset would be debt collector, and she doesn't want that on her conscience.

Until that changes, she, Ramuh, and I keep each other sharp with spars and trading combat tricks.  They're both of the opinion that I've been slacking off a lot and not keeping up with my hand to hand skills.

Well I'm of the opinion that they've got potatoes for eyes.  Spellcasting's in my blood, I've always gravitated toward magic.  Both my parents were gish adventurers!  My grandma is maybe a decade or so from becoming a being of literal magic!

Maybe I can try and get Percell a job with the city.  Ea could use more enforcers, right?  Someone whose skill is tracking and retrieval, not kill-murder-maim-destroy-wreck-crush?

When we have kids, I'm not letting Owona dictate anything about their lives unless she gets her act together.  So I'm putting aside some money from my wages and investments to save up.  If they want to go to school, I will pay for it.  Not Siar, not Pa, me.  Because then I know it's unconditional.  ...Okay, as long as the only condition is they can't go to Hishaan.

Percell gave me weird looks when I said under no circumstances do we take the kids to Hishaan, not even for visits.  If they want to gamble with their lives when they're grown -- fine.  But while we're responsible for them, we're not going to the dragon-eats-your-soul city.

Anyway.  Pa was happy that Percell and I are putting off having kids -- said missing time with me when he had to go off to learn was some of the most painful things he's ever felt.  Plus, it gives us the opportunity to get some practice by helping him and his new wifey raise their kids.

A bit of parentification, but at least he waited until I was grown to do it.  Hopefully, it'll be eighteen years before it becomes a thing.  And fifty years (at least) before Percell and I have kids of our own.

That gives me and Percell time to save up, get jobs, live our lives a little, and plan out baby names.  It also gives me time to build up some projects to work toward.

Short list:

• Warp-aci.  I like me some glowrats.  Lots of utility there, and it makes it so I don't have to have a teleport spell prepped at all times.
• Cloning/resurrection.  The Fae are always so smug at how easy it is, I will find a way to translate that magic here.  I could do it now, but I'd need to do a near-death ritual to get the particulars.  Blasted Fae having it easy.
• Prepare for the Dragon-Cubi war.  Getting the prior items figured out first would be ideal, as they'll help with this.
• Make sure my plans don't interfere with Mab's.  I'm not one of her friends, she likely won't like my being here, and I don't want her to see me as an obstacle to be removed.

These are all big macro goals.  I have smaller projects to keep me occupied in the mean time.  Such as answering a summons from Owona I've been putting off by writing this.  Ugh.

---

[Chairtastic]

I said so in chat, but nice call-out to Soul Reaver.

Thank you, and I hope you enjoy your five internet cookies!

Ahaaaa, so more for laudanum than straight-up opium or heroin. Watch out for vomiting. Old-timey tinctures of opium have a chemical component that modern laudanum has removed from it through use of a petroleum byproduct. (Yes, laudanum still occasionally sees use in modern medicine! Rarely, though! I'm surprised, too! Mostly as an attempted treatment for EXTREME diarrhea. Opiods do tend to cause constipation. x3; Or treating opioid withdrawal symptoms in babies whose mothers used opioids regularly during pregnancy.)

Also gotta be reeeeeal careful with the dosing. Naxolone's a long way off, historically.

(Side note, opioids generally don't do a whole lot for childbirth pain, but might help with relaxing muscles during.)

They use the muscle relaxing aspects to keep the mother from injuring herself during birth -- with creatures, it happens a lot.  And also to keep stuff like wing tentacles from being able to tear the place up.

This group of Jins only have one pharmacist/apothecary, which is why Siar was able to sign up.  With her, they can alternate teaching and working instead of hoping no one needs pills made for a day.

Oh right, I forgot to peek in here and say I love this.
Also, you've ~~probably~~ actually as we talked on Discord guessed Gaia to be my favourite character

Love you enjoying the story!  Glad I'm writing Gaia as intended.   She's mostly practice for how pre-character development Cyra would be, but if she has a fan I'm happy all the same!

[Chairtastic]

Chapter Twelve: A Heart that beats for You

---

The Chairport, 8538 Years Before DMFA

Owona

Owona reflected on the experiences of a woman who would not be born for a thousand years at the very earliest. She reflected on Cyra. A woman who had wanted to conquer a great city, to provide luxury for herself and her descendants – as most creatures did – and had it backfire from unforeseen complications.

She looked at memories of still images, that depicted moments of Cyra's life as she interacted with her grandson – not yet born either. And as she did, Owona pondered if it was how the Fae felt. They were unshackled to time, and the limited knowledge of most creatures.

By Cyra's words, not yet spoken, Owona was her friend. By Cyra's memories, not yet acted out, Owona had saved her life on many occasions. By Cyra's actions, not yet taken, Owona was her peer as a terrible clan leader.

When Owona dove into the collective unconscious of her clan, she felt not a scrap of happiness. Not a mote of joy. What lay there were interconnected rivers of frustration, dislike, and misery.

They were every bit as miserable being in her clan as she was being its founder. Perhaps Owona could have endured such a thing until her scripted death, had she not seen what she had. But it was not so, knowledge had been given to her. Through Cyra's torment, she saw forgiveness and how others would step up to help.

Through Gemenes' memories, she heard words that encapsulated her. "I don't want to ruin more lives... hurt anyone else."

For the first time since she ascended to tri-wing status, Owona wept. Alone in her private sanctuary, she wept for the years of her life that had gone unlived, the goals she'd left incomplete, and the harm she had done.

To weep was to give an escape route for pain, and as Owona wept she leeched some of the unhappiness from her clan's collective mind. As the hub of the wheel, she could draw it out of her clan members and offer release.

"Things cannot continue as they are," she decided and dove into the connections between her and her clan members. "Gemenes, when you are able, please enter a meditative state – we need to speak."

For a creature of her age, patience was a must. She waited until Gemenes' mind opened up to her before she slipped into his mental space.

He had taken the time to sleep, to create a dream for her to inhabit rather than an unstable mental state.

Once again, the cavernous building was empty, save for two chairs – one of which Gemenes occupied.

"You called?" Gemenes' emotions projected weariness. He was exasperated with her, which correlated to memories she picked up from him – Nihi'lir had begun the nine years of blindness for his assassin training.

"I did." Owona sat in the chair appropriate to her size. "I have pondered, and come to a conclusion. The way I have administered this clan is not...." There were words she wanted to say, so many that she struggled to find the most appropriate ones. "I have erred in my leadership. It has made you and your elders unhappy. Even me."

"At no point in my time as one of your clan members have I ever suspected you cared for our happiness." Gemenes folded his hands in his lap. "What brought this on?"

"...I wish to make amends." Owona straightened her back. She would meet the task and overcome it, as she had so many times before. "I wish to restructure the clan, so that it is not nearly so miserable."

Gemenes' eyebrow arched. "I'm happy to hear that. However, you're telling me this why?"

"I have no idea how to... do this." The giant mole scratched her forehead with her claws – longer than her descendant was tall. "Could I ask you to help me?"

"Am I to take it this means I'm no longer at risk of being murdered?"

Owona nodded. "At least, not by me."

"Very good. Let's begin at the beginning." Gemenes unfolded his hands and gestured with them as he spoke. "You'll probably want to speak to the main family clan members you have running the show, get them brought up to speed on this. Then start telling the branch leaders, I'd recommend Siar be one of the first ones from her seniority."

There was a layer of bitterness to Gemenes that was only revealed when his exasperation faded. Like a layer of dust over a deeper issue.

"Understand – I and other clan members are feeling what you probably felt when you ascended. Trapped, bound to obligations we didn't ask for and living blunted lives as a result. How many of the branch family leaders or the main family know the circumstances of your ascension?"

"None." Owona shook her head to and fro – the motion created gusts of wind from her size. "You are the only one to upset me enough to reveal that."

"I'd advise you reconsider that. Sharing the root of the problem will help us empathize with you, and come to a solution we can all live with." Gemenes stood from his seat and approached her. "I'm not your peer, nor your senior. My perspective is limited. Seme is here, where I am – she is among the foremost therapists to have ever lived. You have allies in some of the oldest clans currently living. Siar is going to make the change any year – and you could reach out to Fa'Lina if she's ascended already." Gemenes spread his arm. "There is no shame in asking for help."

"They're all so... competent. With clans that love and respect them. Successful. And I'm.... " Cyra's words, text on a page, flitted across Owona's eyes in that moment.

Owona leaned back and considered. Seme was new to the alliance, it would be improper to ask her for such advice when her clan was in dire straits. Fa'Lina was not yet a tri-wing, and Owona had no idea where she could be. Siar... was someone she had hurt badly over two thirds of her life.

The misery Owona had made Siar live with would go on to be the focus of her clan, once it manifested.

Jin was grateful for Owona's information about Telmun. Taun was rage incarnate, as Owona was. They would be whom she approached for counsel.

"...A change of scenery is called for." The soft voice from the ceiling proclaimed.

Gemenes scowled and sat down in his chair again.

Quicker than the eye could blink, the scenery changed. No longer a cavernous room of glass and steel – it was a stone port adjacent to a sandy beach. Great ships, longer than Owona was tall, loaded people up and began to leave.

"Walk with me, talk with me." Gemenes rose from his seat and walked away from the docks, the ships, and the other minds as keenly developed as his.

Owona shrank herself down so that she could follow him without damage to the awnings of the port. She felt sand beneath her feet for the first time in centuries, even if it was a dream.

"Some of the clan won't be able to forgive you. You might not get to the point where the clan unambiguously trusts you until every living member dies and is replaced by someone who never had to live under the old system." Gemenes stopped in the sand to turn to her. "Are you prepared for that?"

"I am." She could already feel Gemenes' own bitterness, and echoes of discontent from the rest of the clan. "I wish to stop actively harming people, though."

"Well good. We don't want to be harmed either." He fanned his wings. "You know step one, start telling people things are going to change. Step two is finding people who will help you change. I'll do my part, but I'm not even a century old – don't expect miracles."

Owona nodded.

"Step three is to find a way to meet our needs without forcing us into jobs we don't want or have the skills for. I think mandatory combat training is alright still – but talk to others and get an idea." He shrugged. "You need to decide what parts to keep, and which to leave in the past. To help sort that – what made you want to fix this mess?"

A mote of the deep bitterness flecked out of Gemenes as he spat that question at her. Underneath the bitterness was revealed a terrible loneliness. Despite being part of a clan, Gemenes seemed to feel alone.

A more damning critique of her previous leadership, Owona would never find.

"I reviewed the memories of Cyra. How she mourned me after I died." Owona turned to look out on the sea. It was minty green, filled with algae, with fish that siphoned the tiny plants from the water. "And how she had similarly made her descendants miserable, but wished to make things better."

Gemenes had no reply. He glared at her to continue.

"Cyra considered me a friend. And...." Owona held up her hands – mostly made up by her long and unnaturally sharp claws. "And I couldn't imagine anyone would want to be friends with me. I haven't had friends in...." She tried to recall, before she ascended. The faces of her allies, her family members.

She could only recall faceless figures. Voiceless words they'd spoken. People without names.

"Well." Gemenes sighed. His bitterness was less pronounced, but still visible to Owona's supernatural awareness. "That's as good a reason as any."

--

Pudrock, 8533 Years before DMFA

Illyria Scorcros

When they looked themselves in the mirror, they didn't see the person they were thirteen years ago. Years of adventuring had given them confidence, strength, battle prowess.

It gave them perspective.

Their career hadn't been exemplary, far too often for the Guild's liking did they involve themselves in politics. But they had lasted longer than most adventurers. Many retired in their mid-twenties, if they lived. Not Illyria. Not Themis.

Their figure had gained muscle mass from thirteen years alongside warriors. They had long ago eschewed fluffy robes for a suit of armor. Their magic had moved from spells to their weapon – they were a new kind of gish.

They brought powerful protective spells, healing magic, and sculpted light to the forefront of battle. There wasn't a word for what Illyria was, not yet. As the pioneer of a new field of adventuring, their insight was sought. But they had none to give.

While they had remained strong, Themis showed signs that her lifestyle was not sustainable. As the healer of their group, Illyria had done as best she could. But they had no idea how to mend injuries of the spine, tendons, or nerve endings.

As they looked themselves in the mirror in their tavern room, their gaze drifted toward Themis. Their room was a two-bed, and Themis lay in hers atop the covers. Every three or four breaths, she coughed.

Illyria had to correct her spine from a slippage earlier in the day. What had caused it? A sneeze.

Themis had sneezed and slipped a disk. The whole rest of her day was spent recovering.

The two of them were equally muscular, after so many years. The armor Themis had gotten a decade ago from the school had only partially survived – no longer a full suit of lamellar, but with patches of studded leathers, chain mail, and siren-crab plates. It rested on a stand, next to Themis' axes, Illyria's brigandine coat, and warhammer.

Themis' armor gave her the visual shorthand of being 'the barbarian' while Illyria's gave them the visual shorthand of a professional warrior. The deception pleased them both.

A knock at the door shook Illyria from brooding enough to walk away from the mirror.

"Don't get up," they told Themis as they passed.

"I'm not an invalid," Themis wheezed back.

"You're injured, I'm your healer. It's an order." Illyria folded their wings over their chest so no one would be upset at the sight of – gasp – breasts. Mostalsian hangups about fashion were ridiculous. It wasn't enough to wear a shirt anymore, no definite features of the body could be visible. Baggy pants, loose shirts, an overall frumpy look.

It was why they hated adventuring in Mostalsia.

They opened the door and openly glared at what they presumed would be their disturber. Alas, there was no one.

"Down here, please."

Illyria looked down, and saw a figure at their waist-height. A mouse, with red and black fur – obviously demon-blooded. He was an older man, his flesh hung off his face in deep wrinkles, his hair was grey and turning white at the roots. The man was dressed in a Lostkeep Island lava-lava, sandals, and a seemingly heavy satchel bag, he walked with a well-worn cane.

"Hello," he said in a soft voice. "I was looking to hire adventurers, and the nice young lady downstairs directed me to you?"

Illyria glanced around, sure they were being pranked. "...Sir, how did you get in here? This is a Guild tavern, not open to the public."

"I used to be a Guild member when I was younger. They still let me in, even if they don't like me." He smiled.

Illyria's eyebrow rose. Intriguing. They leaned on the door frame, with the door open enough to let Themis hear and comment, but not make her state known. "Alright, sorry for doubting you sir. What's the job?"

"I'm Lir'rey, and I need an escort to see me safely to my son's wedding. It's not terribly far from here, but it's in dangerous territory I hear." The old mouse offered his hand to shake.

Illyria did so. "Illyria Scorcros. Congratulations on your son getting married."

"Thank you. It's quite unusual for him to be having a wedding, see. His mother's family were all very hush-hush, not doing any big celebrations. But I guess his new wife insisted." Lir'rey waved his hand. "The trouble is, whatever's been going on here on the mainland scared him off – he's living in Telmun City now."

Illyria tensed. Telmun was a demon city, a sanctuary for people fleeing the Smotli fanatics. They'd learned all about it after Gyo'Oh finally died. An underground city that spread out in unknown directions.

The city had been refused recognition from parliament on account of them harboring fugitives. Technically.

Telmun had no restrictions on coming or going, in an effort to entice people to do business and grow their city. However, Illyria had heard stories of people who had visited the underground city, returned to Mostalsia, and had that one visit hound them ever since.

Government officials would keep their names on a list, and they would automatically become suspects in the event of a crime near their homes or businesses – regardless of other considerations. They could no longer testify in court, or enter government buildings.

Illyria considered – their headwings hadn't popped yet, so they likely would in the next year. Either way, they'd have to retire. Themis, burdened with so many injuries, would have to retire as well soon.

Telmun, assuming they were welcoming, could be a convenient place to 'disappear', for Illyria to return to Swiftkeep, and Themis to settle down.

"I'm alright, let me ask my partner." They looked over their shoulder. "You in?"

"Assuming we aren't required to leave right now," wheezed Themis. "I'm in."

--

Astral Plane, 8533 Years before DMFA

Siar

In a meditative state, the Wicked Witch communed with her greatest of grandmothers. The space she designated for their conversation was clear – that they could see the astral plane outside the space, and be aware of snoops or other villains.

The astral plane was a place of solid color, with lightning-bolt paths of white light that connected all living things. From the astral plane, one could slip into another's dreams, into their thoughts, into their feelings.

Caution had to be taken when one actively went to the astral plane, it was not safe. Mythos and other creatures lurked on the plane, eager to devour minds.

While others shielded themselves from seeing the danger, Siar preferred to be aware of it.

Great Owona traversed the lightning paths in an instant and emerged in Siar's realm without need of invitation. Such was her authority over Siar.

"Well met, o ancestor mine." Siar fanned her wings as she bowed. A formality she wished she didn't have to observe for Owona, but was necessary nonetheless.

"Well met," Owona replied. The giant mole folded her wings and took a seat on the transparent floor of Siar's mindscape. "Are you in need of further resources?"

Siar faked a smile but didn't bother to hide her distrustful emotions. "No, we're fine on that count." She refused to believe that the change of heart Owona seemed to have undergone was at all genuine. Two thousand years, Siar had known her clan leader. She didn't believe Owona saw the need to change course, when her clan survived just fine miserable.

Why would she consent to a grand wedding when large celebrations of any kind had been banned for her entire reign? It made no sense.

Blessedly soon, it wouldn't be her affair anymore. She would make the change.

"I was talking to my son Nihi'lir just recently, regarding plans for his wedding. And he happened to let something slip." Siar fanned her headwings up, a minor threat display. "You are considering not allowing my grandson by Nihi'lir to leave the clan when I ascend?"

That was another thing Siar had learned when she followed up on the initial slip-up Nihi'lir had made. Owona believed Siar was not only capable, but would eventually ascend to tri-wing status. That Owona didn't seem to doubt it, and was confident enough to discuss it with her descendants openly was the greatest compliment the mole had ever paid Siar.

"Correct." Owona nodded. There was no shame, no shyness, no hesitancy. "Would you like to know why?"

Siar sensed no condescension from Owona, but how else could such a question have been intended?

"Enlighten me, o ancestor mine." Siar condescended to her in turn, with a repeat of the bow gesture.

"Because I'm reasonably certain the rush of information from him, on top of your own descendants, would snap your control of the ascension process. The sheer volume of information he has would overwhelm you, I suspect."

She took a step back, unsure how dire an insult she'd been paid. "You think my mind so weak that one grandchild more would undo me?"

Her clan leader's gaze softened. Her wings lowered themselves. "No. I do not." The elder succubus took a deep breath. "I lack the words to describe the issue as it truly is, for I have not encountered this before. So, I went in search of wisdom from elder clan leaders, and the phoenix oracles."

Siar's eyes widened. Owona had asked help from other clan leaders about one descendant? Even gone so far as to seek out the oracles?

"The oracles strung together words to make riddles of their answers, but I discerned their meaning. It would be harder for you to complete your ascension if you had to process Gemenes' mind as well as your other descendants. I have an interest in you surviving the process, so my choices are not good."

Suspicion and offense drove Siar to fluff her fur, flare her wings, and bare tentacles on her leader. "And what do you mean by that?"

Owona looked at her, eyes no longer soft. When the clan leader spoke, she always had a deeper resonant echo that followed her words. Like elemental shadow, as a voice. That echo instead spoke in harmony with Owona when she answered. "I've been informed that come what may, I will outlive you by a mere four hundred years. At best. So – the longer you live, the longer I do as well."

Oh.

Pure, unmitigated self-interest? Siar could understand that. She could, perhaps, come to respect that even. If Owona had truly consulted phoenix oracles, then there was no reason to suspect such a claim.

Owona was not one to directly lie. She could obfuscate, omit, or refuse to answer; when she gave a direct answer, it tended to be the truth. And Siar couldn't imagine Taun or another elder clan leader would give her false information on that count.

"...Fine," Siar replied after a lengthy pause. "But after I have ascended, after I have adapted to the changes – you will not keep me from my kin."

"You forget, o descendant mine." Owona lurched forward, supported herself on one hand and lowered her face to look Siar in the eye. Owona's eye was larger than Siar was tall, her pupil a match for Siar's wingspan. "He is my kin as well. As are you. And the reverse on both counts."

As quickly as she loomed, the clan leader withdrew.

Siar had been frozen – something as large as Owona having moved so fast was too much for her to parse in a moment's time.

"If he goes to you after, or I allow him to join you during your ascension – I have yet to see evidence that you would use Gemenes for anything but inflicting horror upon the world." Owona's eyes narrowed. "Prove me wrong, if you care to. Dispel my doubts. You're the one who sets the timetable – I have your whole life plus four hundred years to wait for your decision."

Owona's form began to become translucent.

"Goodbye, o descendant mine. I wish you luck in your new romance."

Then she was gone.

What had started as a demand for answers turned into a minor dressing down for Siar. And to top it off, Owona threw Siar's relationship back at her – an attempt at a compliment sandwich, no doubt.

She remained there, seething and silent, until she got fed up and began to dismantle her mental space. Perhaps Seme could assuage her bruised ego.

---

Hey, it's those peeps! Not dead at all! I like it when folks aren't dead. Means I can make them dead creatively.