The Taller they Stand, the Harder they Fall

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Irenmund sighed softly, feeling her head against the strong muscle of his bare chest made him a bit more relaxed. If for no other reason it was just to provide her some form of comfort. As she shook her head and pulled away he breathed once more, letting himself decompress after the wave of emotion that had befallen him at her song. That simple song had welled so many emotions from the pit of his heart that he had feared he had lost and now feared feeling. Oh life was a cruel mistress wasn't she?

"I'm sure you have others you simply do not yet know..." He spoke with a small smile, looking to the ceiling as she spoke. The tenderness of her voice made him shudder slightly, too used to paid women, that was the true reason. He had been just old enough to have a wife when he was taken from it all. Now he had her so near, it was near torture for him.

"No, one in my position isn't allowed the luxury of sorrow... that only brings you down when the other man wants your head." He spoke, she was astute that was certain. If it was her gift then it was true, she was a truly incredible oracle. He was impressed, more than impressed he was astounded. "My people didn't allow pain to be shown either... no tears, no remorse, the gods only accept the strong... that is how it was..."
 
Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to wrest prophecy from reality. Had she really just rested against him, or was that part of the vision? She had trouble sometimes telling truth from fiction, the present from the future. It was all so clear, all so real... and he brought her gifts forth like nothing before. Perhaps it was the magic within him, calling to the magic within her. Perhaps he simply had a stronger spirit, a stronger future. Perhaps it was her own emotions influencing her powers. Being an Oracle was, after all, a lifestyle and an identity more than just a quirk. Magic took a harsh price. She had paid with her eyes to have the gift, and paid with energy and strength to access it. Some days, the future left her so worn out she could hardly breathe, exhausted by the immense toll it took on her mortal form. No wonder the women of his land grew into shriveled crones from the strain!

Yet the berserker magic did not seem to work the same way. What was the price he paid for his talents, she wondered. Or was his magic truly free? A strange thought. Almost as strange as emotions being dangerous, a liability.

"The Great Astroph teaches that sorrow is one of the seven emotions of civilized man," she offered after a moment. "Sorrow, Joy, Romantic Love, Platonic Love, Gratitude, Pride, and Calm. To experience these in proportion is the sign of a balanced and civilized life. Frenzy, fear, rage, hate, lust... those are the emotions for the barbarian. To deny you of the seven that are good and force you to those that are ill... it is an ill thing they do."
 
"We believe in different gods in the north... they are violent, warfaring, but kind to their followers..." He spoke in response to her, a slight shrug escaping him while he looked down to her. "I suppose we are barbarians to your kind, though we don't make people fight for amusement or let others be born into slavery..." His kind were simply different, a harsh but still civilized people he imagined. It was a world he desperately missed, family assumed he was dead, younger siblings now old enough to go on their raids. He wanted to see it, to be there again, for all of it's cruel nature his world was home.

"They are probably growing restless out there... we should decide... do you truly wish to be bedded or shall we lie?" He questioned with a whisper while he looked down to her. He wanted to lie, to trick them for the time being and let her hold her innocence a bit longer. In either way he needed to know what she thought, what she wanted. He wasn't the only person this would effect and as such he was giving the choice to her.
 
It was strange, to think that gods of death and destruction could also be loving and caring. In the system she knew, the Warrior Kaan was harsh and fierce. It was Astroph, the god of Civilization, who protected the vulnerable with manners and learning and culture. One god did not do two things at once. Their roles were simple, free of multiplicity. Each god was a singular representation, and had but a single face to show all men.

As she had only one face to show him. Her teeth closed over her lip and she wrapped her arms around herself, wondering what answer would please him. She did not wish to be bedded, but Cassiphaea was no in the habit of answering questions to please herself. Did he want her? All unenlightened men wanted desperately a woman to bed, if the priests could be believed. Did he not wish to bed her? He had suggested that they fake it, after all, and it wasn't seemly to go against a suggestion given to her. Oh, she didn't know him half well enough to please him, and that scared her deeply.

"Do what you think best, m'lord," She whispered back meekly, turning her face away.
 
What he thought was best? He didn't know what was best, not in this situation. He wanted to bed her, to make her a woman, but he couldn't bring himself to it. "I need to know what you wish, I would bed you but I also don't wish to steal that away from you after just meeting you." He spoke with a small sigh, wishing she would be less meek, wishing she would choose for herself. "I need to know your thoughts and feelings, if you want me..."

He could give her the night of her life if she said yes, after pleasuring dozens of free women he knew the ways around. Still he didn't want to steal away innocence from her, desperately he was trying to come to an answer, one he soon found. "I won't take your virginity, not tonight, but I will provide you pleasure." He spoke, finding the compromise between the lie and taking her. He would use his mouth and hands, "I just need you to sound like you're hurt for a moment, and then for you to relax and let me do what I need to..."
 
She flushed, drawing her legs in closer to her defensively. Making a decision for herself, making her thoughts and her feelings known, was a terrifying and alien thought that she did not know how to express. It had been so long since her own opinions had mattered... an Oracle was not a person, they were a tool, and she was well used to being used. Being the least trouble possible was the key to a peaceful and happy life; as her comfortable rooms and generous meals attested, she was very good at not being trouble, at being agreeable and never arguing a point. It was what had always worked, but now... now...

"Irenmund," She said after a moment, her voice small and scared. Her mouth opened again, but the words would not come. Her lips shut again, only to open with a soft, "I will do as you wish." It was sad and it was not a perfect solution, but she could think of no better one. And if she did, she probably wouldn't have voiced it.
 
He responded with a kiss to her forehead, down to her mouth, at her jaw and then to her neck. From there he would proceed to give her a night of pleasure, everything the male could bring himself to do to the girl with his mouth and hands. Soft caresses and gentle kisses. A few of his own groans thrown in just to make sure those outside heard and would believe their little lie. He was sure she would enjoy it no matter what though, giving the oracle attention most paid hefty prices for.

With it over he relaxed back down beside her, helping her smooth out the cloth she wore while he released a long sigh. "There... now you aren't so innocent." He spoke with a slight teasing tone to his voice, wanting to ease a bit of humour into their encounter after all. Humor helped all things.
 
She had never imagined it was even possible to experience such things, to lose oneself so completely to another. His hands, his finger, his tongue and lips... in a sad way, it was the greatest adventure she'd had so far. She had been shy in front of him, flushing like the maid she was, but once pleasure broke through the barriers she was his, and the cries that left her lips were genuine.

As, afterwards, was the embarrassment. What had they done? Oh, gods. The sounds she had made, the way she had bucked and squirmed... he must think her wanton. She felt more than half wanton herself. "No," She agreed after a moment, her voice huskier and lower after the moaning she had done. "I... I certainly am not."
 
He smiled softly, leaning over to place a kiss to her forehead once more, holding it and being kind about it. "But what you did wasn't shameful, I have seen shameful..." He could tell by the look on her face that she was torn about what she had experienced. It was to be expected after what he had made her do, what his own ability brought out of her. She was beautiful when wracked with pleasure.

Still he closed his eyes, wrapping an arm around her and bringing her in close against his strong form. His strength providing her comfort while he simply held her, held her like a lover, like a dear friend. He cared for her, adored her in a way. Even though he had just met some strand of fate drug his soul towards her, like something about her required him and part of him required her. What did fate have in store, what did the weavers plan for his future. He didn't know but he wanted to know.
 
If anything, the fact that he could tell she was ashamed only embarrassed her more. Was she so transparent? Without her sight, it was all she could do to change her voice, for those were the cues of emotion that she knew best. Her face was in almost all ways an open book, for she had only learned to hide what would get her in trouble with the priests. What he brought out in her she had no idea how to defend herself against.

Yet... she was so tired of defending herself. When she felt his heartbeat, Cassiphaea could only melt. Wrapping her own arm around him, she pressed her head to his chest, basking in the warmth and strength of his embrace. Why did she feel so safe around a man she barely knew? It was strange, unexplainable... but he brought about strange things in her that she couldn't begin to explain.

After a moment, tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. In spite of herself she began to cry, clinging tighter against him.
 
Iren was taken off guard by her tears, the feeling of moisture against his chest made him think of blood for a moment. His muscles involuntarily tensed and held her that much tighter before he could get a grip on the situation. Looking down to her he brought his other arm around, nose pressing down into her hair while he held her. "Shhh... shhhh..." He spoke softly trying to soothe her, trying to do whatever he could to bring the poor girl some comfort.

If only violence solved tears, he thought while he held her near, his breathing steady as his heart. The male's eyes had fallen closed, nose buried into her hair, soft kisses being planted as he tried his all to comfort someone. He wasn't good at it, or at least he thought. All he could do was hold and kiss, all he knew to do was hold and kiss. "It'll be okay Cassiphaea... it'll be okay." His voice was strong, the rasp coming through as comforting as it could.
 
To her own surprise, he was actually better at comfort than he would give himself credit for. Although she knew that, in all truth, he could only make this very small window of her life better, she just almost believed him when he assured her that everything would be okay, just almost. Somehow, if she could just stay in his arms, it seemed the rest of the world might just go away and she would be safe, and warm, and loved.

Loved was a strange word. She couldn't ever recall someone caring for her emotionally, not in a meaningful way... or caring for someone. Somehow that only brought the tears on harder. She would only see him until she fell pregnant... or even less time, perhaps, if their deception was revealed. "I wish it would," She whispered back. "But... once I leave here... I don't think it will be."
 
He frowned with her whispered reply, it only made him tug tighter, pressing her head to the muscles of his chest. His eyes falling closed as he placed a kiss to her head and spoke once more. "Call it instinct... in the end... it will be alright." He spoke, trusting his gut's feeling on the subject as he slowly relinquished his grip on her, the sounds of bustling outside the door made him sigh

Soon the door opened, armed guards flanking it's ends while the priests followed in. He sat defiant, staring at them as if daring them to take her away from him. He knew he didn't have a chance in hell to stop them, not un armed but still. It made the priests stop for a moment, looking fearful at him. If nothing else that look pleased him, made him feel stronger.
 
She froze as the door opened, not wanting to leave. The thought of returning to her own cold and empty room seemed unspeakably sad after what she had done and experienced and come to know since meeting Iren. Nevertheless, she was tired, and tomorrow would be a long day. If the gods were good, she would visit again soon. The day after tomorrow, perhaps. All day if she was lucky, just for a few hours if she was not.

As she rose, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, and whispered, "I will return... and I believe your instincts."

With that, she walked over to the priests, who wrapped her shawl around her, frowned again at Iren after seeing the tears drying on her cheeks, and left the room with their noses high in the air.
 
He nodded softly watching her leave before he too was taken away to his old room in the barracks. Some men questioning how it was, he said nothing as he made his way to his small bed along the wall, the good bed as was his right, just below a window. Sleep came slowly, his mind trying to figure out all that had happened, why he felt such a connection to her. Eventually exhaustion claimed his mind and he slept sound.

The next days brought violence, he couldn't count the men he had killed on one hand anymore. Someone important's birthday had happened and as such games were thrown in their honour. It left him with new cuts, stitches crossing some of the larger ones on his arms. It was a part of life for him, to be hurt in some way. It was too normal for him.

He was once more taken to the room, dressed in pants and body oiled and musked. His hands bound and hung above him, he had refused the prostitutes since her arrival. There was something about her that drug out his loyalty. A slight sigh escaped him as he was left, the guards shutting the door behind him, his eyes falling closed while he waited, slowly working over the various ideas in his mind.
 
Had it only been a day since she had been with him last? It felt as though a lifetime has passed. Her life had changed overnight, his influence taking her out of her shell and revealing to her the mystery and majesty of ordinary things. The foo was tastier on her tongue, the sun warmer on her skin, the scent of the flowers sweeter in her nose. Fortunes came to her as soon as she brushed against something, and smiles came just as easily to her lips. It was as though he had cast a spell on her, but if this was black magic, she never wanted anything else.

Last night, her hands had crept under her skirt, seeking to duplicate what he had shown her. It was not the same, not nearly, but she felt an entirely different woman, somehow empowered and freer though the collar was just as tight around her neck as ever.

The priests, while surprised by her enthusiasm, only shrugged and encouraged it. As far as they were concerned, as long as she was eager to get pregnant, they were equally eager to get her so. They sent her just after noon mass, this time with a basket in her hands filled with a meal for the two of them to share and the warning that it would need to last them through morning. And the thinly veiled suggestion that she ought to hurry up and fall pregnant, but that was another matter entirely.

This time when the doors swung open and a key was pressed into her hand, she took it and walked more confidently to Irenmund, freeing him almost as soon as the locks clicked behind her.
 
His eyes lifted as the doors opened, a small smile forming upon his lips while she approached. He had fought for her today, not for himself and not for the crowds, for her. "Hello Cass..." He spoke softly as she unbound him, slowly rubbing his wrists to soothe the irritated flesh. Her presence brought him pleasure, eased his weary soul. It gave him something to live for in a way, something to ease the urge of thanatos within him.

The basket had his attention, the smell of food beyond gruel was interesting, driving a small grumble of hunger from his stomach. A gentle hand reached forward, brushing the hair from her face and caressing her cheek. A bit of wonder crossed him, wondering what she would think of him if he could see the web of scars that crossed him, the harsh lines of his face. If she would be repulsed of her forced lover.
 
She smiled as well, leaning her face into his hand. The warmth and comfort of his touch was almost indescribable, which she was about to say to him when her nostrils flared briefly and her eyebrows came together in alarm. "I smell blood, Iren," The blind girl said softly, her voice worried, perhaps even vaguely scared. "You're hurt, aren't you?" It was a gladiator's job, she knew that, but it still somehow surprised her. Even with the scars she had felt on him, even with the battles he'd mentioned last time, it was completely shocking to her that he actually got injured. She couldn't remember ever being hurt worse than falling down a few stairs.

"They won't... they can't... they wouldn't let you die before they know I'm pregnant," she stammered, hoping it was true, then worrying about what would happen when she did, or if she didn't. The thought of losing him, of losing the one person who had cared for her in such a way, frightened her more than it should have. "I wish there was some way I could stay with you forever."
 
"'tis nothing more than scratches..." He replied with a smile, sure it was a bit more than scratches but he wasn't going to go into how badly he was hurt infront of her, the worry in her voice was motivation enough to play them off as trivial. His hand slowly worked down to her neck, gently holding her before he smiled, those simple words of wishing to stay brought him great joy. He leaned in to kiss her lips, holding the soft peck a moment before withdrawing. "Look into the future... if it is meant to be then it shall be." He spoke, the male believed greatly in the fates, the norns, whatever you called the weavers.

A small smile remained on his features while he simply caressed her face and neck, gentle touches, adoration. Was this a form of love? Possibly. He wasn't sure of his feelings, he was just doing what felt right. It was all he knew how to do, all he could do. "Tell me, what did you do today?" A simple question escaping him while he cantered his head.
 
She doubted that the wounds were so minor, but she would not argue with him. Not now, likely not ever. It was not her place to speak back or argue or insist. It was her place to agree, quiet and meek as she had ever been. Only not quite as before.

"I... I spoke at the noon mass," Cassiphaea told him after a moment, leaning against him for the sheer joy of feeling his presence. "About the plans of Astroph, and how we all fit into those plans, like all the fingers of a hand. Separate, different, but working together, to build the same thing." The young woman paused, guilt flooding her. She shouldn't say these sorts of things out loud, but she felt he ought to know. "Only... this time, this time I don't know if I believed it," She admitted very softly. "Astroph says that all men must do their duty, must fill their place in life, so that all men must prosper. From the highest priest to the lowest slave. But when I see what the hand builds, I realize that they do not build for all the fingers. They make a glove, a glove which is rich and plush for the priests and the rich men, but threadbare for the poor and not covering the finger for the slaves at all. I do not think it is the will of god that all men should work, but not all men should receive fruits of that labor... oh, Iren. I just don't know anymore."
 
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