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About Varied / Hobbyist Member Sarah K.21/Female/United States Group :iconcreative-imagination: Creative-Imagination
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Orbs of candle light drifted through the air, high above the heads of the people down below.  Trees stood high in a large circle surrounding the guests dancing to the soothing music. Vines with flowers of all colors wound their way up the tall grove.
The spirits milled about the dance floor, chatting with old friends, flirting casually. Trays of sparkling punch floated among them never sloshing out of their crystal cups.  
The spirits were dressed in the most luxurious gowns and cloaks this magnificent evening.  Everyone dripped with natural opulence. The shine from the lights made skin glow, and crystals glitter. The dance floor was spinning and writhing with bodies that danced to the mysterious music. Throngs of spirits lined the tables and balconies buzzing with news and rumors, eager to be let in on the newest story.  
A dark skinned man weaved his way through the crowds, nodding and socializing his way towards the two golden thrones the sat on the raised platform.
The ancient hero heard the story of a comatose damsel arriving in Holy Park. It wasn’t often a living person could arrive at the light. What made the spirits buzz was that word trickled in from the shadows;  two holy men were going to attempt to bring the maiden back to the world of the living.  They speculated that Sovereign couple was not going to allow the maiden to be saved.  
It always amazed Beo how fast a story could travel and be embellished, to the point of a fairy’s tale.  The story was mostly truth so far. The couple may let the maiden back, but one could never be sure.  He was confident that he’d give the people a bigger tale to tell.
Beo waiting at the steps that ascended to the modest thrones above.  

The most powerful couple in the spirit world walked to their seats with little fanfare.  
He was the Sun. He was tall and muscular, like a logger who spent his life chopping down the biggest of trees.  His hair held many shades of orange and red, like a flame.  His skin was dark olive with a golden shine.  His eyes were the color of the purest gold, wisdom beyond time molten in his sight.  His clothes were woven from gold and silver, copper dragons flew along the hem, teasing his ankles.  Upon his head sat a crown made of fire opal, which glittered in the candlelight.  
She was the Moon.  Her skin was pale and luminous.  Her figure was plump and soft to his firm and hard.  Her eyes were pearls, the light color seeing all the secrets you cast into the night. Her hair was all the shades of night time; rich purple and blue cut through the deep ebony locks. Her hair was loose this evening, shimmering like the galaxies far beyond their reach. While his clothes were thick and heavy, hers were thin and loose. The loosely draped gown was transparent enough to see all underneath, if one was looking close enough, its deep emerald fabric was no match for her glowing skin.  White opal sat upon her head as a hypnotic crown.

Moon tilted her sparkling head as she studied the earthly hero. Beo was a fascinating subject to listen to. She could dare say he was her favorite human.  
Sun indulged his mate in her pursuits of pleasure and entertainment.  As long as Beo never coveted Moon as his own, he could allow the time they spent together.  He examined the hero as Beo looked over the crowd of dancers.  He wanted something this solstice.

“What do you want Beo?” Sun asked of the hero. He could see the gears turning in his head.
“I only ask for a small favor.” The warrior smoothly replied.
Moon eagerly scooted forward in her chair. “What kind of favor?” her eyes held the promise of adventure.

Beo steeled himself for the rejection of his request.
“I want my wife back.”

Sun nodded in understanding, but frowned at the burden the fulfillment would require. Beo’s wish to be reunited with his wife was a source of contention for centuries.  
“I know last time I had asked you told me that I had to wait until the border between the spirit world and the living was stabilized.  The curtain has remained stable for the last 70 earth years.  There has been plenty of time. I’ve waited long enough.” Passionately he explained.

Moon and Sun looked at each other in a silent war of permission.  Pale Moon won the battle.

“You may have your wife back.” She decreed in her soft voice.
“However,” Sun revealed, he low voice vibrating with power; “We will not be the spirits to bring her soul back together. We have responsibilities, duties to our people. You must have the Fates relinquish their hold on the piece of her soul they hold in safekeeping. The fragments will fuse back together on its own. ”  

Beo had wondered at what price he would get his beloved back. Luckily he had known that the Fates owned pieces of his soul mate and had convinced them to release them when the time was right.  He had hundreds of fragments, Beo dreaded how many more he would need to find.  

Back at his chambers, Beo dragged out a trunk long enough to be a child’s coffin.  Inside held many jars, boxes, and jewels that contained a piece of Beo’s mate. He was so close to seeing his wife’s face again it hurt.

Clearing an area on the floor, he shattered all the jewels first, then he pried open all the small boxes.

As the vessels were opened, bits of blue light started to clump together in the shape of a woman. As he started on the larger jars he realized that he did not have all of the parts to make her whole again. He opened the last of the containers he had horded for centuries, only to see that the light of his life was not whole.

Beo was angry, he knew deep down it wasn’t going to be easy to bring back his wife who was scattered over the world, but there had been a small measure of hope that it would be that simple.
He dried his eyes of the guilt-ridden tears and straightened his clothes. He had work to do.

The various Fates knew when the Hero came back to the joyous dancing.  Once they could hear him ask the first fate if they held a bauble containing a soul, their collective minds tensed with apprehension. If Beo didn’t get the answers he sought, the situation could turn violent. While it was not possible to hurt a soul in the spirit world, conflict tended to rouse the docile spirits into their many wicked forms.  Dark, angry energy corrupted the souls, morphing them into the things of nightmares.  

One Fate at a time, Beo asked if they kept a bauble with a soul.
“I do not.” Said one, with her long pink hair wound up around a gold stick.
“I have none.” Murmured the next, her skin chalk white, her hair blackened like the smoke that wafted from forest fires.
“Of course I do.” spoke the fate of a war ravaged land, her skin stained with blood, her clothes in shambles. “However, I only hold the souls of the wicked from the Cursed War. Your object of desire is not among them.”
Beo searched and search until he came to the last Fate he knew of. She was newer, better, then her previous guise. He knew her well. This Fate balanced the lives of his beloved home. Under new rulers his homeland thrived and was almost the most influential country in the world.
“I only hold your soul; that you know. However, if you talk to the oldest of us she can tell you what to do.”
“The oldest? I’ve talked to everyone!” disbelief clung on like Velcro. “I’ve talked to the eldest Fate”
“No you haven’t. Her area of reign is small and void of people to herd.” Fate pitied both the hero and the old goddess. “She may have what you are looking for.” She curtsied and bid Beo adieu, to join the dancing with a tall 5 tailed fox.

Beo scanned the dance floor and did not find the last fate. He then decided to head for their domain, the podium where they monitored their allotted country. Beo had always been curious as to how the hive worked, it took lots of time and planning to fulfill their goals.  Each Fate monitored from their own area. Each area held a desk; the style varied between metal boxlike structures with drawers, to large mahogany masterpieces, carved to show their victories and greats citizens
Each country was represented by a flowering tree. Most were large, with many leaves and blossoms.  Three of the trees were giants, towering above the rest. Petals fell from all the trees, being the dead, replaced by blossoms that were the newborns.

Beo watched as the petals silently faded as they fell from their branches. The soft lights of the monitors that watched the living flickered and pulsed.  He walked through the aisles of desks; some stacked high with scrolls, others with maps and weights. His footsteps echoed o the glass floor, his shoes not leaving a single mar.

A modest tree stood bare of leaves in the middle row, towards the back of the podium. Its branches were thick, its grain a silent testament to the passage of time.  Here stood not a desk of metal or wood, but a reed mat, frayed and faded. An old spirit sat on the reeds, her body still young yet her eyes so old. She wore shells in her seafoam hair, her feet bare from shoes and sandals.

“I can help you great hero.” She answered before he could ask, “There is narrow time to achieve what you seek. I need three heroes. One is fast, the other strong, the last smart. They must be the greatest of Kings with hearts that give their people hope for the future.  They must save a woman who unlocks the seal of my temples. She must be compassionate, gentle, and have the knowledge of the mystical. Only these four can find what you need.  I have the key to unlocking the woman’s potential. I merely need her here.”

Beo knew of one such hero that could be used, his friends could be molded into greats as well. But how to do that and get a woman into heaven?

He went to the large desk that showed his homeland. Merely touching the desk he found who he searched for.

The Grand Prince Richard, walked down the aisles of the university library only to find a woman had taken his spot!  

Beo could work with this.  And so he set his plan into motion.
Into the Spirit World 3
This chapter of the story sent me into fits. Lots of changing of the who and what and when. 
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Weak sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of Richard’s bedchamber. The Prince sat up in his mangled bedding, hair plastered on one side, sticking straight out on the other.  His groggy eyes regarded the torn curtains of his four post bed. The closet went miraculously unscathed.  Everything else however, had some degree of char or rip.
Richard drug himself out of bed, his limbs heavy and sore, to the large bath near the window.  He turned on the hottest water to fill the bath, along with a glug of scented oil to sooth his aching muscles.  

While the prince soaked himself awake, his friends were scarfing down their breakfast. Briar picked at her ham, in awe of the sight before her.
Awen decided not to wear a shirt to the breakfast table, seeing as how he just got done with training. His large chest was a striking shade of milked coffee. Sweat glistened off his skin like glitter. Briar was never around the male species much, having lived with a hermit teacher for the last four years. Her teacher was old, unconcerned about having her charge interact with others her age.  This had to be the first male body she had seen since her father, and she couldn’t get enough.  She was so focused on the sculpture before her, she didn’t notice Awen leaned across the table to her until he whispered to her.  
“You need to eat so you can keep up today.” He purred into her ear.
Briar stuffed ham into her mouth, wondering why the simple sentence sounded so dirty to her.
Laschet watched Briar stare at his best friend like he was a piece of cake she didn’t know how to eat. Awen, as usual, was ignorant of the hungry stare directed his way. He was regaling Laschet with a story about a sand snake and how he was fighting it off poisoned and half blind. As usual, Laschet only listened to the tall tale with half an ear.
Alright this staring had to stop; he could see drool working its way out of her mouth.  
He nudged Awen and had him lean close. “Tell her to eat.” He pleaded.
The way Awen executed that maneuver was far from ideal, for as soon Awen sat back down, Briar’s face lit to a bright blue, her odd coloring on display for everyone to see.  
Laschet gave up, shaking his head at the two carefree humans.

It was midmorning when Laschet was finally able to get outside into some fresh air. It was comforting to see the sky above, even if he was surrounded by buildings on all sides. He contemplated the mental state of his friend now.  The death of a loved one was hard on many, but in Richard’s case it seemed extreme. How had Richard befriend the woman lying in a coma up in the tower? Richard was a very private person, only showing interest in his studies, whether it was knowledge or strength. It took two whole summers at the royal mingling retreat to be called a friend by him. Last time he saw Richard in the flesh was during the harvest season, and he had made no mention of anyone besides family. Who was the female that had ensnared his friend so quickly?

Something nagged at the back of Briar’s mind as she examined the comatose patient. The woman looked really familiar. Briar started cleaning off the wax and sacred oils when she noticed a scar on the woman’s outer calf. It was an old scar, its tone lighter than the rest of her leg. Briar remembered Mary had a scar just like it, she had got it when they had raced up a rocky hillside to pick berries, but a flash storm came in and Mary had cut her leg, falling, while trying to escape the storm. Briar noticed a new scar on the other leg’s thigh, a strange star shape that was still pink and puffy.
Briar’s nagging feeling grew more pronounced as she peeled the metallic wax off the fingers of her patient. Little divets cut through the whorls of the woman’s finger tips. They were all straight across the pads of her fingers, like someone held her hand flat while slicing the fingers with a razor.  
Only one person in the world had these almost invisible scars. Briar’s one and only friend, Mary.

Laschet came upon the two auras inside the comatose woman’s room. He could feel Briar’s, like a warm gel that made his skin tingle, and the small flicker that was the lady he had to save. He entered the room silently, the door latch not making a sound. He studied the Death mage before him, she moved with grace, her hands steady and strong. He wondered if she knew what kind of faces she made while she worked. The narrowed eyes and pursed lips made her look older then her years. She cleaned the body with a damp cloth, starting from the bottom and working her way up, covering the rest of the body as she did so. Briar paused at one thigh; a little half smile graced her face as if she remembered something then moved on. The small smile faded when she saw the palm of her client. Shock was apparent on her face, then she took a deep breath and continued on. Tears glittered in her eyes as she pulled out a small lacquered box, to pull out a coin.
The coin was large and thick. Made of opal, its surface glittered and sparkled.

Laschet wasn’t sure when his two friends entered the gently lit room. They stood to either side, watching as the Death Mage placed the opal coin under the hand of her friend.

“Do you want to see how Mary lived? Before the dragon took her away?” she asked, her voice soft like fresh cotton.
They nodded, Briar placing their hands on top of the hand that held the coin.  

The four appeared like apparitions inside a rustic cabin. The colors were oversaturated, the white almost blinding. By a cold hearth stood a cradle, paint chipping, a faded lamb gracing the ends.  Inside a small pink baby slept, unconcerned about the hollering of other older children outside, or of the birds chirping in the trees.
The baby fades, instead replaced by a chubby toddler, hair like sunshine, a smile kept on by two dimples; waving a stick, babbling at a cat.
Mary was six now, hands held palm up, as if praying; concentrating, her eyes screwed shut tight. The natures sounds filtering in from outside the old home was now joined by a melody. The sounds of trumpets and flutes resonated throughout the home. The girls face smiled wide as she mastered her first spell.
A knock sounded on the door, a gangly 12 year old, with her blonde hair hastily braided back with a small blue bow, opened the door to find two adults, their faces shrouded in shadow, accompanying a girl her age, Hair black as night, her skin as white as milk.  Mary pulled the girl in, assured the parents of safety and rounded on her new friend in glee.
“I’ll be your friend. We’ll be like Nido and Hito.” Mary declared to her friend.  
“We’re going to rob banks, then fly off a cliff?” the new one assumed.
“Noooo. We are going to be bosom sisters. It’ll happen, trust me. We mesh well.” Mary hugged her friend close. “by the way, what was your name?”
The bewildered girl blushed sapphire. “My name is Briar.”
“Like a rose.” Mary looked at her new friend, Briar. “And a rare blue one to boot.”

The next scenes passed quickly but always showed Mary and Briar. Dance lessons, while being the only ones in boots; studying thick texts by the winter fire; laughing about a funny story while in a hot spring; walking down the small town street, heads together whispering secrets. One good scene was the two up on a hill, the summer passing by while they read a mystery series.  
It was the next fall when Briar tearfully left her home and family. Weeping, she said goodbye to Mary.
Richard watched as that fall passed. Her bright smile now faded to a half hearted laugh or grin. The scenes showed Mary alone, watching the world go by through the winter, her hair kept in one messy braid, as opposed to the buns and intricate hair styles she used to wear.
Spring was visible to the watchers as the window showed buds of leaves on the trees.  Mary laid in bed, oblivious to the sunshine or the laughing of children outside. Her mother came in, tempting her only daughter with sweets and a new book. Mary only quietly refused.
It seemed to be later that same week when Mary’s mother pushed her daughter out of bed and sat her down in front of the fire built to keep out the morning chill. Her mother told Mary that a substitute teacher was needed for a reading class and for a basic spell class at the school.  She pulled her daughter’s hair into high bun and threw clothes at her.
The plump woman set a stack of old work books by her daughter.  “You need to take your mind and do something with it. I know Briar is your close friend, but you need to accept she is far away and won’t be coming back for a long time. Help out those little ones. Figure out what you want to do for a career.”  

Teaching the young ones was like a balm to Mary’s soul.  As the spring eased into a cool summer, Mary dove into reading books with a passion. She was now seen carrying at least one thick tome with her everywhere.  The years faded into each other. Mary didn’t return to the same level of happiness she had with her friend around, but she could laugh and smile for real again.

Mary sat in a room full of self moving pens and quills, an elderly man with a curly mustache read her application to the prestigious school.
“Well now, you certainly have the grades to be admitted. Are you willing to live in a dorm room with another person?” Bushy brows framed pale cloudy eyes as they narrowed to study the girl before him.

“I do not mind sharing a room at all. I understand there are plenty of places to study that are not my dorm room.” Mary hastily promised.

“Well everything seems to be in order; you’ll be taking basic classes for the first year to gauge learning styles and to acclimate. Where do your interests lay? Science? Mathematics? Engineering? You would be excellent doing those things.”

“Actually I want to be a teacher. I want to teach children to love learning and trying new things.” Mary sighed and thought of her new dream.

“We will keep that I mind then.”

Briar was surprised when she saw the dark prince before her had met her best friend. She watched as Mary and Richard grew closer and talked more and more, their sessions in the library spilling over into a few breakfast or dinner meals together. Briar felt heartbroken as Mary saw her hexed and destroyed room, the only thing left was a bauble and the clothes on her back.

Laschet gazed at the young woman called Mary with a sense of pity as she was shown  digging through  pile of forgotten or donated clothes and uniforms trying to find things that fit.  He watched as his best friend took her in and while she didn’t notice, looked after her, sneaking a couple coins in a cushion or two then suggesting she search for pocket change to buy decent clothes.  When a hair brush broke, he gave her a newer, better one; shrugging his shoulders when asked where it came from.

Laschet and Briar didn’t realize they would be front row seats to pure nakedness when Mary met Richard in the bathhouse. Laschet wasn’t sure if he wanted to see either of them stripped down, while Briar was overwhelmed trying to take in Richard’s solid body.

Awen chuckled and nudged his stoic friend, “You don’t look like you’re that big.”

Laschet instantly recognized the little girl Mary took care of as Lily, one of his younger sisters. Developmentally she was way behind the curve it seemed, so his parents had sent her to a boarding school that had others like her and in her own young age group. Lily must have improved dramatically or fooling them all, when he watched his little sister chatting away to a complete stranger.  

Richard felt shame and guilt as the events leading to Mary’s situation started to play out. What seemed to be predictable and normal behavior; turned out to be erratic silly. Why couldn’t he have just explained the situation to his mother? Mary could have held her own. He could have explained that it was his mother to Mary, that he treaded a fine line with coming to the university instead of doing his family duties. He could have said anything and she would understand.  He watched her in suffocating agony as he snubbed her and abandoned her without cause. He simmered with anger towards himself.  This was not the way a Prince acted towards anyone. He tried hiding his roommate like a child hides a stolen toy.  

Awen watched as the woman sought comfort from the frozen river. He remembered how it felt to be shoved aside by peers. He had hidden in a cave on numerous occasions when he was small. He emphasized with her as she tried to shut away what seemed to be an uncaring world.

Briar felt murderous for the first time in her life. How dare this person shove her best friend away. Any excuses, even a feeble lie about a headache would have been enough for Mary to understand and she would have gone off to do her own thing for the afternoon.  

Everyone watched in horror during the encounter with the Dragon of the river. Laschet felt sick to his stomach as he watched the once vibrant girl deteriorate into a shell of her former self. He looked to the frail woman on the bed and wondered if she would even bounce back from this ordeal like the other times.  
Briar burned with rage towards the prince who hurt her friend. He hurt her so much and now her friend was in a place she couldn’t reach, forbidden to go.

“You better bring my friend back or I’ll make sure you have to go through hell before heaven.” She threatened from her prone friend’s side.  “Mary is the purest person and you threw her away. You are no better than scum.”

The vision of Mary’s memories faded, presenting the Queen and Richard’s mother Vivian at the chamber door.  

The Queen looked at everyone in the room with eyes that saw everything.  “The portal is ready. You don’t need to bring weapons, they don’t translate from our world to the next.”
Richard walked back to his roommate’s side. He laid a kiss on her pale fingers and vowed silently to bring her back into one piece.  He brushed a piece of hair out of Mary’s face and walked out the door.  
Laschet hurriedly nodded to Briar and followed his brooding friend out the door.
Awen hung behind, observing the death mage as her trembling hands put small bottles and the opal coin back in her box.  
He knelt down in front of her and stopped her fingers when they made the whole box of glass ware clang together.
“You save to save her.” Her voice barely reached his ears. “Mary is my only friend. She can’t die now. I need her.”
“We will bring her back. I promise. Do you want to come with us? You know her aura and energy better then everyone here.”
Tears snaked down her cheeks as Briar shook her head. “It is forbidden. It is too dangerous for me to go. But here,” she gave him a small faded blue bow. “It was her favorite thing to wear in her hair for years. It’s soaked in her aura.”
“Thank you Briar. This helps a lot.” He went to stand, only to be stopped by her pale blue fingers on his leg.
“Look for the large white phoenix. It’ll take you to the light where I’ve put her.” Her hand tightened into a fist. “You must never touch those with black eyes.”
Awen’s eyes narrowed, for he knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park to get to heaven, so what sort of information was she giving him?
“If you are touched by those with the black eyes your soul will be born again. No living person is supposed to be in the spirit world. If you were alive when you went to the spirit world, you will die if stabbed through the heart, severed head from your body, or touched by the black eyed spirits.”
Sobered by the advice given to him, he thanked her and left for the portal.

Morianu observed his son and his friends as they filed into the small room where His portal sat in a box on a pedestal.  

“My son.” Calling Richard’s attention to his face.

“Yes Father?”

“Do you remember the stories and fables I used to tell you when you laid sick in bed when you were little?” Morianu crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Yes father. But what does that have to do with getting back my roommate?”

“They are real.”
Into the Spirit World. 2
the pat is seen and advice is given. What were the fables Richard was told as a child?
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(Contains: nudity and sexual themes)
Mary was floating. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling if anyone would ask her. All she could see was blackness.

She didn’t know how long she drifted aimlessly, but it felt like an eternity.  Then she saw a bird.
It was silver and white, with long tail feathers and a wide wingspan.  It started off as a dot on the horizon. Gradually it become bigger and bigger until it came up come to her and Mary was stunned at its size.  Its feathers on its breast were the length of her hand.  
The metallic surface glinted and gleamed.  

A ghostly hand swung down in front of her face.  Despite it being almost transparent the hand was one of a warrior. The fingers were long and thick, the palm, leathery and tough. Mary knew that the skin would be dark like the richest of soils. However there were no colors. Just black, white, and gray.  The aura that surrounded the person was warm and fluffy, like her favorite blanket.  

“Come lass, time may move differently here but we don’t have an eternity.” The male voice slid over her skin like the smoothest of silks, the baritone reverberating deep in her ribs.  

Mary grasped the large hand with her two small ones, and was lifted easily up and onto the creature’s silver back.  

Mary looked behind her to see the spirit who came to save her from the void.

“You! You are…”




Briar quickly discovered the fabled Phoenix Crown was as heavy as it looked.   As she slid the helm over the woman’s head, she monitored the soul they were trying to save.  Like a dwindling fame it flickered and sputtered.  Three heads hovered over the bed as they watched with bated breath to see whether the soul would stabilize or putter out.  

In a minute or two the flame finally stayed put.  It flowed weakly, but it was defiantly there.  Two of the three heads sunk to the floor in relief.  

“Strange. The crown’s never done that before.”  Richard’s drawn, tear-streaked face held a curious gaze towards the crown.  

“What do you mean? It’s never done what before?” Briar grumbled from the floor. She was tired. Bone tired.  The cool marble felt good on her overheated body and she didn’t feel like getting off it.  

The Richard that his two friends grew to care for and love came back with a raised eyebrow.

“The crown jewels only glow when they deem worthy. If they don’t want to play they won’t. In all my time wearing my crown the jewels never glowed that bright.” Richard rubbed his face on a sleeve, at odds with his haughty tone.  “It has to be working then. She is stuck somewhere and they are holding her in place. Good.” He spoke with resolve. He stood at the woman’s head, gingerly, tenderly, straightening the covers once more over her starved body.  

Briar’s gaze stayed with the mysterious prince as he left the bedside and headed to the door, mumbling about doors and portals when he just dropped. Fainted. Passed out cold onto the marble.  

“Ahh shock. My good friend.” She grinned from the floor. She stood up, her knees wobbly and head throbbing. “Let’s get to the next part in the morning. It’s time for naps, food, and drink.”  

Awen, like Laschet, hadn’t expended much energy at all that day so they took the tired two to their own beds to rest until the supper time.


“You are Beo.” Mary gasped to the person who saved her from the void. “You’re the first dragon trainer.” Her brows furrowed at his chuckle. “What? Can’t I be in awe of the first person to train a dragon?”
His perfect dreadlocks jingled from the beads that decorated them. The 20 something chuckled some more.

“It wasn’t my finest moment. And I didn’t even like to handle dragons. But someone had to do it. I preferred the company of Old Marie here.” Beo patted the seat of sliver feather with love.
The phoenix gave a coo, that echoed though out the void.
“I’m here to drop you off.” He sighed.
“Where?”

“Unfortunately, being tethered to a physical object in the living world, I can only take you to the edges of paradise.” Beo gestured to the hazy glow in the distance. “You’ll be safe there until your friend comes to get you.”
Mary blinked. “My friend? Briar? I don’t think even a death mage like her would know I’m dead. She moved up to the Tundra a few years ago. She won’t know that I died until I miss sending next month’s letter.”

Beo grinned. “No. Not your petite friend. I mean the man who owns the hunk of metal that keeps me grounded. Richard. The Prince Regent of the Great River.”
Mary fought to process that information while the historical figure mused on.
“I knew the boy would be great. It is too bad Marie and him don’t get along.”
“Okay?”
“Oh look! Here we are. This is the line of the line for me.” Beo placed Mary onto the soft grass below. “Go find something you want to do. They have books, paints, a lake, all sorts of things to do. Just stay where the light is and Richard will find you.”
“Will you be okay?” Mary worried.
“Oh you’ll see me again. I don’t think you’ll get rid of me anytime soon.” Beo shooed her into the bright light. “Go have some fun!”

Mary’s eyes hurt as they adjusted to seeing color again. All around her, the colors were oversaturated. Many spirits of all shapes and sizes strolled on paths of clouds. Some were human looking, like her and Beo, while others took forms of fairies and plant life. Oodles of spirits were humanoid with animal ears and tails, some had claws, while others had fangs.
Mary picked a street and started to walk.

Mary wandered the streets of heaven alone. So far she had seen a library filled with books and cushion, chairs of every size. She found a group of artists painting or sketching a small cherub with an arrow.  She heard the harmonies of an opera while passing three stages side by side, each preforming a different play, yet the music and words never blended into each other.
She walked along a lake, where many fished and swam in the crystal water. she then came upon a row of roses bushes, taller then she, blooming every color of the rainbow and everything in between.  as she got closer she heard a trickle of a feminine moan. A man's deep vibrato filtered through the bushes.
Deciding she needed to waste time, Mary crept along the rose  until she could find a hole in the bushes to see through. Finally coming upon one she gently pulled leaves aside to see what was happening on the other side.  Like most spirits here in heaven, they did not wear much in the way of clothes. That wasn't what shocked Mary, it was what they were doing that set her face on fire.  Legs were entangled, hands roaming all over, their pelvises were glued together. The man's large black wings encased them both, his golden rune markings flickered with passion. The woman's moans increased in volume as she ground her hips on his, her fingers scratching at his scalp.  The man nipped at her long neck, his pearly fangs rasping at the delicate flesh there.  
Mary felt perverted as watched the two, willing herself to look away from the passionate lovers. Desolation and loneliness ached low in Mary's belly. She wanted to be that woman, in the throes of ecstasy with her lover.  The kisses and touches she had experienced while she lived were fleeting, light, cold.  There was no hot embrace that set Mary into flames.  She couldn't look away from the couple even as the man threw the woman over the edge of a bench, lifted her ass high into the air and began to thrust his large rod into his mistress.  It dawned on Mary that she wasn’t really taught what to expect with sex.  The glistening nectar where the two spirits joined was obviously supposed to be there, she assumed. Still, she was curious about why the two danced this in and out game of theirs. Did it feel good? It must have, for then the male withdrew completely, his cock dripping with the woman’s juices, sending her into whimpers and pants of confusion. The male took himself with his hand and stroked it from root to tip a few times, then like a paintbrush, he dipped himself into her then stroked her from the base of her spine to the front of her cleft. Up and down the cock went, never entering the woman. When she finally tried to trust her hips back onto him, the male leaned down to her ear and whispered, while rubbing the head of his cock between the lips of her pussy.  
Mary’s mouth was dry, while in between her legs grew a tender ache. She watched as the couple beckoned to another couple, who consisted of two males, one lean with pastel wings, the other brawny with deep red wings with razor-like feathers. The three males positioned the woman on the bench so that the new comers were at her head, while the dark one stood between her legs. They all whispered words to her, their murmurs sliding over Mary’s shoulders like warm honey. The light one suckled at one breast, as the sharp one kneaded the other while his thick rod was milked by the woman.  
Soon, the dark one put both his hands down by his cock and covered them in the woman’s nectar. He traced wet patterns all over her torso. The other two both dipped hands into her to paint her themselves. Her nipples, now dark pebbles, were coated in her own juices, glittering in the light. They then coated their own turgid staffs so that they were slick to the touch. One teased the bulbous head of his to her hardened nipple, encouraging the small tremor that passed.  
Now both men sucked at her breasts, now flushed and swollen from pleasure. Their hands stroked each other vigorously under the bench. The Dark winged angel thrust harder and faster into soaking pussy.
Mary felt like she was sick. Her breasts felt heavy, it was hard to take in air, her knees trembled, the cool air both soothed and hurt the place between her leg that was hot and moist. Liquid dripped down the inside of her thigh, unhindered with the lack of undergarments. She yearned for the touch of someone, anyone to help ease the ache. She wished Richard was with her. She didn’t know if he would actually do anything with her, beyond a pat on the back, but she was desperate.  The image of the foursome just made her want more. Mary didn’t even notice her own hand drifting to the hot spot of her clit.

A jolt of electicity sprang along Mary’s spine. Just the mere tap of a finger on her back left her seeing stars as she turned to face the one who found her peeking and drooling at the sex lives of someone else.
Gray skin encased the heavenly figure before her. Glowing runes danced and slid along lean muscle that supported two sets of smoldering black wings. The ends of the black feathers glowed like the coals of a dying fire. Tattooed leaves swirled around the arms and broad chest. Luscious black hair tumbled to the tops of his shoulders a square jaw framed a fearsome face that scowled at her. Piercing gold eyes left her breathless, but at the same time notched the ache higher and stronger.
Against her will, a whimper passed her lips. Whether it was for mercy or to help with her ache even she didn’t know.  
“I look everywhere for you and you end up here? What am I supposed to do now? You’ve gotten all worked up and my charge is nowhere close to being here yet.” He ran long grey hands through his messy hair as he gazed at the spirit he had to track down.

Close to tears in frustration, her breasts engorged, nipples too sensitive for even the slightest brush of fabric, Mary begged for the being before her to relieve the ache low in her belly.  

With a sigh of frustration, the male before her traced a long claw down her sensitive breast. While that finger teased her nipple the other hand found the soft curls of her woman hood.  The hand lifted the short skirt that covered her hips to run a finger along the wet seam that dripped down her leg.
The angel leaned in close, his nose almost touching hers, her body so tense it trembled. His cool breath swept over her face, and Mary could just make out the faintest of shimmers that left his perfectly sculpted lips.  

His breath smelled of heather and the sea.  

Unfortunately, heather was one of the more irritating scents for Mary. Her nose itched and burned, overriding all other sensations her body were screaming at her. It was all too much. She had to. Had to….

“AAHCHU!”  

“You okay down there?” The man with the burning wings teased.

Mary shook her head to clear out the cobwebs. Her body felt normal again. Sticky, but normal. She stood up and dusted off her bottom, to march straight towards the lake.

“Where are you going?” The nameless man followed.

“I feel gross.” Mary shifted on her feet feeling the semi-dry stickiness that was between her legs. “I’m going to wash off real fast.”
Into the Spirit World.
this is a continuation of the Magi series i started writing way back. this story will still flip between Richard and Mary primarily with little snippets from other characters. 

yes. yes I did write this. yes there will be more sexy scenes.
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i finished up the last of my Medical Assistant internship last Friday and I couldn't be happier.  Now its time for job searches and moving.  



But first I'm taking some me time and focus on writing.
  • Mood: Relief
  • Watching: Friends

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Sarah K.
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:iconalesia1366:
Alesia1366 Featured By Owner Aug 28, 2014
Thanks for the points BTW, almost forgot.
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ArrogantReality Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2014
:wave: :glomp: How are youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu? :D :eager:
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:iconrikusdemongal:
rikusdemongal Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
I'm doing good. How are you? 
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ArrogantReality Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2014
I'm not doing horrible anymore, thankfully, and finally. :hug:
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rikusdemongal Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
well that is Awesome.  I hope your future is filled with happiness and muses. 
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MeowImaCow Featured By Owner Oct 27, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you so much for the watch!! :iconbrohugplz:
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Thanks for the fave :)
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Thanks for the Fave!
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rikusdemongal Featured By Owner Sep 5, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
I really did like it.
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Thanks for the fave (:
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thanks for the fave and the comment! DFTBA
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thanks for the fav!
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Thank you for the fav )
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no problem!
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ThePowerofThree95 Featured By Owner Dec 29, 2011  Student Traditional Artist
tHANXS FOR THE FAV!!
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Thanks for the fav on my Street Fighter work!
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Ebonyepiphany Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2011  Student General Artist
I want a Chapter a Day!
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rikusdemongal Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
oy! you'll get one tomorrow!
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thanks for the watch!
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