‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ωяιтιиg ѕαмρℓє #1 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
“Mommy, what’s this?” Little Kismet Lourdes pointed with her delicate finger at the reproduced image in black and white on the wall of a gaunt man, crucified on wooden boards in the shape of a cross. Nails were embedded into the palms of his hands and atop of his feet, keeping him secured on the international symbolic figure. “That’s our Lord and Savior, sweetie.” Ophira, her mother, grinned with a twinkle in her eyes, thrilled to know that her offspring showed curiosity in a longtime family creed. Kismet didn’t understand the full meaning behind that, but nonetheless lit up to see her mother’s supportive reaction to her naïve interest. “It would bring such happiness to mommy if you were to pursue being a Nun to serve Christ!” Kismet nodded her head excitedly in agreement, wanting to do anything and everything for her beloved mother. The years had passed, and Kismet never questioned her choice to chase after Ophira’s dreams of her becoming a Nun. She studied the Holy Bible intensely, prayed, grew an unbreakable bond with Jesus and God, and kept her faith pure with no ill intent. At the age of 21, her hard work paid off and she got accepted to become a Nun at a local Catholic Monastery in town and living in their quarters, but that never stopped her from visiting Ophira when able.
Some years had passed and it became evident that her mother was growing ill, albeit at a slow rate for the intervening time. Promising Kismet that everything was fine and that she would be well soon, Kismet shook her head in understanding and was hopeful that with the power of prayer she would indeed get well. The weeks had passed, and the praying never ceased, in fact they grew more vigorously. Ophira showed small signs of improvement but eventually her symptoms grew worse. For the first time in her life, Kismet distrusted her relationship with God, wondering why he wouldn’t listen to her pleading prayers for her mother’s wellbeing. Frantically she went to the library in the monastery in search for answers. Pages were desperately turned, eyes wandered from left-to-right to soak in the information, but nothing new that she didn’t already know showed itself. As she picked up another book, tucked behind it and riddled with dust was a treatise, labeled “Machi – The unspoken Healer”. Instantly her eyes widened, beginning to delve into this unfamiliar tome immediately.
The Machi is a religious authority that leaded healing ceremonies, including the use of medicinal herbs and other remedies such as wielding the power of the spirits, and even hold the ability to go between earthly and spiritual worlds and interact with the goods and evils within. It didn’t show signs of believing in a different entity, so Kismet wasn’t as hesitant as she should’ve been; desperate times call for desperate measures. She studied the contents within, obtaining the medicinal herbs and memorizing the foreign alien-like words that held overwhelmingly powerful purpose. Ever since her journey with this newfound material, she felt as though someone or something lurked behind her, alternating in positive and negative auras. Feeling poised with her new acquired knowledge, Kismet ventured off to her mothers home where she lied in her bed, weakened and obvious that she would soon pass.
Kismet recited those foreign words passionately with closed eyes as she caressed Ophira’s skin with oily medicinal herbs, the scent of mint encasing the small bedroom. Ophira sighed in relief, feeling surprisingly chipper and better after the ritual was performed, unknowing the truth regarding what it was. After warm goodbyes, Kismet waved at her beaming mother and promised that she will be back first thing in the morning. Dawn made its presence and Kismet was on her way to greet her seemingly healthier mother, only to be met with Ophira’s body riddled with cyanosis and glazed-over hues, lifeless in her bed. Shocked, Kismet attempted everything she learned about Machi on the cadaver, only to be met with failure. With disbelief in her heart she ran to the head of the church, Cordero, breathlessly explaining everything that had happened with hot tears falling down her crimson cheeks, pleading for a reasoning to her mother’s fate.
Cordero was appalled and distraught with Kismet learning about the ways of the Machi, and excommunicated her from the monastery, uncaring to the book belonging to the church. He chanted “Witch!”, others that heard joining as well and tossing miscellaneous things her way as she ran as far as her burning calves would allow. Alone in the woods, weeping as her palms cupped her reddened face, she would feel a warm presence, the one she started to feel after her Machi studies. Removing her hands and wiping away her tears, Kismet would catch glimpse of a transparent womanlike apparition, the female bowing to her with praying hands before being swept away with the chilled winds.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ωяιтιиg ѕαмρℓє #2 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
It wasn’t hard to spot Heaven’s Tower in the pale moonlight, the slightly wettened leaves shimmering as they rustled with the gentle breeze. Riya Lunnaa squinted her luminous grey eyes, investigating where the guards were stationed at. Spaced out, and not in her favor. Frowning, she rationalized their movements inside of her mind, studying their rotations for a few weeks until memorized. It wouldn’t be long until the shifts would switch, and their positioning would be closer, giving her a chance to climb the side of the tower and dive into the slightly opened window.
The Mithra was sent on a mission by a wealthy Elvaan male, Civerion, residing in San d’Oria. He had called upon her in request for the valuable Star Tree Seed, offering a hearty lump of currency if her mission was successful. Who would pass up an opportunity such as that?
Impatience wasn’t a trait she held onto, waiting patiently in the confines of a bush a mile and a half away from the tower. The soft hum of the Cardians filled her twitching ears, their wooden wheels scratching the rocky ground as they patrolled. As hoped, a new guard team stepped out from the tower, bidding the others a farewell and goodnight before taking their place.
Riya noticed that the later shift wasn’t as keen on patrolling as the others, chatting and joking amongst themselves more than they should be. An arrangement of Dark Knighted Mithra and Tarutaru’s huddled together, their chuckling and giggling spiking her legs to summarily dismiss themselves, her calves tightening as she used every muscle in her body to keep as quiet as possible. Just as the towering tree came into view, the fluctuating of armor rustled, the banter ceased. On que, her backside pressed up against the rounded walls, huffing in a breath of air before holding it.
“Did you hearrrr something, Foo?” The clanking of mail approached closer, stopping, then shifting again, this time the sound moving further away than closer.
“I thought I heard something, must be a critter nearby. Now, what happened to her?” The Tarutaru continued to carry on with the story, the lively aura clouding the air once again, deeming it safe to exhale the puff of air residing in her lungs. Taking a glance at the structure of the building, moss and stone was the exoskeleton, making it a perfect combination to use her daggers as climbing utensils. Testing her prophecy, she would grip her weapons of choice firmly. The sweat from the palm of her hands aiding her in sticking to the base of the daggers, using the tip to dig into the cracks of the rocks and moss.
Perfect, it fit in snuggly! Taking her left hand, she would dig the dagger higher above her head, using the tip of her lightweight shoes to stand on the wall, shifting her weight so physics would be in her favor to walk upwards. Despite it using a lot of bicep force and caused them to ache after a period of time, she continued to hold onto the wall with determination, not backing down after months of preparation. The location of her purpose was higher than she wanted, meaning more climbing was to be done followed by exhaustion. Before she had thought that the green house inhibited what she wanted, but later discovered the precious Star Tree Seeds that were matured lied in a reserved room, far away from the public.
The opened window was small, almost too small to pass through, but her lithe body could manage to contort uncomfortable for an even such as this. Her right hand pressed against her pants to wipe away the sweat in order to get a tight enough hold on the windowsill, and when her hold was trustworthy enough, she mimicked the same actions with her left hand. Heaving upwards, her head sank in first, once the all-clear was made, sliding in her body like a squished snake before popping her head back out to secure her weapons.
Riya’s eyes widened in disbelief, the radiance of the pale blue light shimmered in her hues like sequins on a dress. After all the hard work she put into this mission, it would pay off! Blankets and an arrangement of books cluttered a section of the floor, obvious that a guard was on duty, yet nowhere to be seen.
Two feet lightly landed on the floor, her body quick to contract before tip-toeing around the scattered crates, eyes drooling over the precious seeds scattered around. It was hard to choose one, there were so many! One seemed to shine brighter than the rest, her gut telling her to grab that one for Civerion. Placing her left palm on the wooden crate she would bend down to grip the seed with her right hand, until her ears twitched to the sound of oncoming footsteps.
In panic, she quickly ducked down and tucked her legs towards her chest, attempting to stay as small as possible as a guard entered the scene, nestling back into the secured spot.
Damn it!
She cursed inside of her mind, letting the heat of the moment get to her. She will have to sit it out and wait hopefully for the guard to shift around and leave.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ωяιтιиg ѕαмρℓє #3 🅽🆂🅵🆆 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
Asha didn’t seem to believe her, causing her to bite her tongue from not being as believable as she had hoped, but he would give her another opportunity. The ultimate test to deem her truthfulness. She had this in the bag, winking playfully at him regarding his unique inquire.
“I’m confident that I’ll show you more… More than what you’ve bargained for.” His hot breath igniting her skin to tingle, heart racing as the taste of his fingers still lingered on her tongue. With little to no haste her digits entangled around his pants, quickly unfastening them, almost urgently, to release the damned clothing that hid what she really wanted. With enough fidgeting, access was granted, swiftly shaking them downwards to pool underneath his ankles, but another obstacle was in her way – Boxer briefs. A light puff of air left her lips, deeming this some sort of sick joke played on her part.
Crouching down, her face would be leveled with his pelvis, eyes glued onto her prize that was lying underneath the only piece of clothing that separated them. Two index fingers hotly dug inside of the elastic band, nudging them downwards, shimmying in motion, until they loosened enough for gravity to handle the rest.
Proudly, his member shot upwards, the bulbous head staring at the ceiling, a hint if precum glazed over the tip. He was larger than she had initially anticipated, but not displeased. Those thin pupils of hers shot up, giving him a naughty glance before wrapping her thick tongue around the sac that dangled between his thighs, tenderly ensuring each orb gathered enough attention from her wet muscle. His skin was soft and warm, the orbs hardened with anticipation. Stroking underneath them, her tongue would gradually slide back in front, opening her lips wide enough to fit the duo inside, giving them a taunting suckle before a loud pop reverberated from the walls, her lips departing from the now glistening globes.
Tantalizingly she would exchange a glance of approval, extending her tongue outwards as she started underneath the base of his shaft, slowly, antagonizing him with suspense, as she made her way to the tippy top. Riya took her time, making sure to catch his facial expression as she made this hard on him. The mushroom-shaped lining of its head grew more defined as her tongue prodded around, knowing soon he would get what he wanted.
That mouth of hers widened, almost too much, as it hovered over the top of his rocket, diligently wrapping her rosy lips around the precummed member. The warmness of his cum slide down her throat, giving her a taste of his seed. Gripping onto his hips for support, she wound anchor herself to him, lowering her head further onto his shaft as she felt her throat widen to accept the intruder. The girth of his rod caused her esophagus to spasm, each time she swallowed the muscle would contract to add further satisfaction to his prick.
Allowing the two to adjust to the new sensation, she would kiss the base of his cock, holding into him tightly as she paused, his member stationary in her gullet, waiting it out until she needed to gasp for air, showing her full potential.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ωяιтιиg ѕαмρℓє #4 🅽🆂🅵🆆 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
She triggered him to stumble on his words, powerless to even finish what he was saying. The fear inside of her chest slowly began to fade, growing cocky and proud of herself for triggering him. She never openly showed him any sign of gratitude or appreciation to him, always baring her fangs whenever they spoke. To his knowledge, she was nothing but a bitch with no warmth to soothe the coldness she emitted. This had to catch him off guard, and similar to him taking it a step further with his harsh words to belittle her, she now took the reigns and took it a step further with showing sincere admiration. What else would a man want? She had him stalling, but..
His tone wasn’t one of aggressive anger, irritation, or bashfulness. Albeit he was trying to show he was unamused; it had a hint of sweetness to it. Juuuuust a hint. But it was enough of a signal for her to recognize a very tiny soft side to him. He really did have various sides to him, other than being cocky and rude, uncaring and selfish. Prism really don’t know how to take his reaction; it was deceptive yet risqué at the same time. It caused her face to feel slightly warmer, a faint shade of red painting on her nose and cheeks. His eyes were glaring but had some sort of glint to them. She started to get lost in them, wanting to figure out this difficult puzzle of a person he was. Noticing she held eye contact for too long, knowing she may have gone too far, her head shifted marginally downwards. It was instantly halted when his forehead trapped her own, her head laying against the wall to keep the force strong.
All she could see now was his irises, pupils constricting to some animalistic urge taking over his mind. The tip of her nose brushed up against his from how close he pressed his face against hers. Their lips were too close to comfort, yet never grazed against one another.
“You know you can push him off any minute now, right?” Her conscious sarcastically spat at her, but just like him, her body ignored the roaring thoughts to end this little game of hers to test him. She was delving in too deeply, slowly becoming a victim to her own trap. His breath was hot and saturated as it grazed her lips, and she fought the urge to push her chin upwards to feel that warm breath breathe into her mouth as she yearned to part her lips for him.
Despite her hand still resting on top of his, once guiding it, he moved it by itself, grabbing a feel of her curvaceous ass that was malleable under his palms. Prism couldn’t help but jolt in surprise, her leg that was idly resting on the side of his began to coil around it for support and wanting to get a bit closer to him. He felt more human than ever, showing her some sort of desire, acceptance, and taking a liking to her. It provoked her heart to flutter, finally being noticed by him, even though the sexualized part wasn’t on her agenda to win over his friendship… but even in this moment, were they something else now, or still harsh acquaintances like always?
Every time he swore at her was obnoxious and annoying, wondering if the man knew how to talk without throwing a “fuck this” here and a “fuck that” there to add a cherry on top. But when he said "...You must feel so fucking sexy wearing that thing…” The curse word shifting into something other than disgust. It made her want to clench her thighs together to subside this mysterious feeling in between her legs. It made her shutter, wanting to know what else the word “fucking” could mean to him.
The rising of her chest grew in speed, finding herself out of breath with what he was doing to her. He played a reverse uno card on her, but it didn’t seem like it was out of spite or rebuttal, but maybe…
He pulled away before she could think more on that, almost wanting to groan at him for letting her go, actually feeling protected by him for once, as if she had a different meaning other than hatred to him. It took everything in her to organize herself, acting like she knew he’d fall victim to her trap. She had no way of knowing he was going to react this way though, let alone her own reaction and plans shifting unwillingly to something else.
Listening to his condition, while an index finger pointed at her face in warning, she let out an airy laugh through her nose, her irises shifting to his own then back to his accusing finger. Without warning, not done with her plan yet, she leaned inwards and opened her mouth, as if she were about to tell him the deepest secret ever… but she didn’t advance near his ear. Instead, she pressed her upper lip on his fingertip while lashing out her wettened tongue down to his palm, gradually licking it upwards until her tongue touched her top lip. Greedily she guided his finger into her mouth with both of her hands, clasping one around his forearm and the other at his wrist. She sealed her lips underneath his knuckle, sucking his finger lewdly as her tongue twirled around clockwise and counterclockwise, giving him a better idea of what her mouth could do other than talk shit.
She pulled away with an audible pop, leaving his finger to stay there and think about what just happened as the air began to cool the wettened digit.
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