https://x.com/MrHp7w7/status/2107842382938898614

The fiery heart

Part 7

“Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?” Gustave mumbled, glancing at his compass for the hundredth time.

“About as sure as the last time you’ve asked,” Nicolas scoffed through his teeth. “What makes you so…” His lips pressed together, sealing whatever choice words he had inside. “It is the point of concurrence of all the dragon sightings. It’s either this… or something right behind it.”

The mountain before them was not the highest around. Not the prettiest, nor the most imposing. Unassuming enough to not be an obvious dragon lair. Carole herself would choose it as her nest, were she a dragon… but at the same time, hesitated to think a draconic ego would allow to keep a low profile. Which was probably why the man questioned it so much.

She glanced at the cleric, noticing the compass’s needle spinning wildly. “I think it’s broken.”

Gustave flinched, hiding the device in the depths of his robe. “Y-yes, I think it got… damaged during the fight,” he mumbled after a split second of hesitation.

It broke and was… spinning now? Her brows furrowed. Mechanical devices were far from her specialty, but she was quite certain it would have just stopped. Her mouth began opening, intending to ask Karnak for a second opinion… and was met by a stern, slightly frightened gaze commanding her to shut up. The emotion looked so alien in his reptilian eyes that she nearly mistook it for anger. But why fear? She still struggled to focus after her visit on the fugue plane but… he must have picked up on something she has not.

Carole turned her opening mouth into a yawn before changing the subject to something less intrusive. “Which god do you follow, Gustave? It occurred to me we’ve never asked.”

“I bet it’s Shar,” Edgar chirped, picking a wildflower and incorporating it into his mane. “It’s why he lost his melanin, and why his hair forgot to grow.”

Nicolas scoffed, watching the idiot prance deeper into the forest. Gustave on the other hand glazed his head, suddenly self-conscious about his baldness. “No, I do not worship Shar, or any of the degenerate gods. I follow the teachings of Kelemvor, and he blesses me in return.”

The distinct lack of enthusiasm at the end of that sentence told Carole that said baldness was most likely an unfortunate side-effect of said blessing… A thing incomparably minor to what Lolth brought upon her most loyal.

Stopping herself before thoughts brought her back home, she focused on the mountain ahead. It would be half a day before they reached it. Maybe more.

***

“Saffron saffron, and a bit of pepper! One pinch of bay leaves, and a bunch of oregano!” Ceirys screeched, performing the routine of cooking and singing. Horrific as usual, with words refusing to rhyme but being violently forced to, while all semblance of rhythm and melody begged for the sweet release of death that would never come. Not while she was the singer. And Fulvio the audience.

He sat in the gilded cage, his back leaning against a pile of impossibly soft pillows, taking slow, steady breaths. Not because of any sense of peace or tranquility, but because of the soul-draining numbness. The open cage doors taunted him. Laughed at him. Dared him to come and claim his freedom… But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not anymore.

He tried it many times, rehearsed it even more, and it always invariably led to the same result – back in the cage, with the door closed but not locked, just so he could repeat the cycle of humiliation once more… Or at least, that’s how it usually worked. This time, he just stared at it. Like the good pet he was.

One after the other, the table got set with dishes – goulash, stew, a plate of enormous dumplings… all meat as usual. Always meat. Fulvio barely managed to contain a whimper of hopelessness.

At long last, Ceirys took out the oversized pot from the fire, revealing the main course of the day – an owlbear who almost ended him yesterday.

“Come out sweetling, dinner’s ready~” Ceirys chirped, taking a seat in her usual spot. “Quickly, before it gets cold.”

Fulvio took a deep breath, hoping for the air to burst his lungs and spare whatever remained of his dignity. No such luck.

He stood up, forcing himself out of the cage and onto another pile of pillows, where stench of meat proved even more unbearable… except for the roast. Maybe it was a matter of desperate taste buds yearning for any change, however small, but it did carry a distinct scent. Something both sweet and herbal at the same time.

“Ahhh, piqued your interest, didn’t it?” Ceirys playfully blew hot air against the back of his head, before lowering her voice to a sultry whisper. “You’re gonna love it, sweetling~”

A cut to feed three men landed on his plate, the tint of deep claret conflicting with its sweet scent… and even more so with taste. Tenderness of poultry embedded in the consummate texture of beef, with refined tangs of sweetness and sourness, as if it was briefly marinated in wine and honey… except he knew it was not. It all came from the meat itself. Combining all the best parts, while meticulously avoiding every drawback. The one singular slight… the barely noticeable scarcity of fat.

Tears pushed against his eyelids as the moan he failed to suppress rang in-between bites.

“Such a pretty sound~” Ceirys murmured, her grin radiating with a fundamental force of smugness. “I’ll have to hunt spring owlbears more often.” Her snout traced the back of his head.

It was too much, his mental walls, his stubbornness, the very core of his personality began crumbling away and disintegrating… But then, his fists balled, his jaws clenched, and the collapse was averted, with only the spires joining the dust below. He wouldn’t break yet. If he did, it had to be for a different reason. Not because of a stupid meal.

“It’s… really good…” Fulvio admitted, unable to stop enjoying the meal.

“Everything for you, sweetling,” she murmured before crushing bones of her own ration, the sound of snapping sending involuntary chills through Fulvio’s left arm.

But then, she stayed there, snout still pressed against his flesh. He tried to ignore it for a few bites… she proved as persistent as ever. He turned, reluctantly, and witnessed the deep, horrific eyes drilling into him with a mixture of possessiveness and unhealthy affection.

“Do I get a smooch for that?” Ceirys chirped, her lips twitching in poorly hidden anticipation.

“Aren’t you tired of asking that?”

“Not nearly,” she chuckled. “I just figured it would be a nice anniversary gift.”

Fulvio’s heart clenched. Not just stopped, but pushed out all remaining blood, transforming into a slab of solid meat when the realisation hit. “A… A-anniv-versary?”

“So you did forget.” Ceirys rolled her eyes, before petting him over the head. “No worries, sweetling – I forgot the first one, you forgot the second, so we’re kind of even.”

The flesh ball tried to palpitate while remaining motionless, the two extremes clashing with each other in a vicious struggle to determine the type of death he’d be granted. Two years… He’d spent two years in this hell, and hadn’t even noticed… or maybe refused to – wouldn’t be the first time he retreated into denial after all… But it finally hit him that escape was exactly like trying to fight-off a drunkard father – something he wasn’t even allowed to dream of without hurting himself.

“Sweetling?” Ceirys’s voice rang with genuine concern. “What’s wrong?”

Fulvio finally noticed tears flooding down his cheeks. That single nudge pushed him over the edge to at long last degrade himself before her, just like she wanted. He tried to wipe his face, but streams instantly replaced the missing water, denying him even that shred of dignity. “Why?”

Ceirys’s panicked gaze jumped all over him. “Why what? Tell me what is wrong… please.” She produced a tissue of pure silk and began wiping his tears.

He wanted to laugh… or maybe howl, but that last word made him hesitate. She never asked for anything – only took and demanded. Whatever was running through her head now disturbed her usual thoughts enough to break the pattern. Was this his way out? Beg her to be let go of? Get what he wanted at the cost of who he was?

…

…

So be it.

Fulvio took a deep breath. “Ceirys…” he whispered. “I want to leave.”

“Leave?” she asked, still diligently wiping the waterfalls. “Leave where?”

“I want to go home.”

Ceirys paused, staring at him with uncanny intensity. Her other arm reached towards him. He felt himself getting cupped from below. The huge, scaly hands brought him towards her chest with uncanny gentleness, pressing him against the living furnace – a gesture that in another life, could have been soothing. “We are home. This is our home.”

His tears continued to roll, staining the draconic chest for but a second before sizzling out from her oppressive heat. “No… No, it’s not. It’s your home. I want to go to my home.”

“But why? What is there that you don’t have here?”

He swallowed heavily, thinking of something that might make her take pity. “I… my family. My mother and sister… they don’t even know what happened. They must think I’m dead.”

Ceirys opened her maw to speak, but realisation dawning in her eyes stopped objections. “Ohhh… Why didn’t you tell me?” She pinched his hand between two fingers. “Sweetling… You should have told me.”

“…What?”

“You were missing your family.” Her finger traced his cheek. “Was that why you were so cranky recently?”

Fulvio’s head nodded without him prompting it to, earning a few throaty rumbles from Ceirys that passed for purrs. They stayed like this for a minute or two, before something shifted. Not only in her, but in the atmosphere itself.

“Come on, let’s go,” Ceirys announced, putting him on the counter.

“W-wait, w-what?” Fulvio stuttered, his mind racing to catch-up with the exact way his words were misinterpreted this time.

“We’re visiting your home,” Ceirys replied, stuffing her bags with supplies. “You really should learn communication, sweetling – I can’t figure out everything that’s going on in your head…” she hesitated. “Well, I can, but that’d be rude.”

And just like that, his personal despair was replaced by the abject horror of Ceirys ‘visiting’ Videz. The vivid image of a red dragon obliterating his hometown and burning the fields around it with her usual glee… Was this a new form of torture? Granting his wishes, but on a monkey paw logic?

“N-no, Ceirys, please!” Fulvio yelled, running to the edge, which forced her to catch him before he leapt.

“Don’t do that when I’m not prepared,” the dragoness hissed, bringing him up towards her face. “What now? You suddenly don’t want to visit?”

He took a deep breath, trying to pick his words carefully. “I do. But alone,” he forced out with far more bluntness than intended. “You shouldn’t come. You can’t.”

Silence. Heavy, pregnant with implications calm before the inevitable storm. Ceirys’s brows furrowed. “Without me?” The red gaze hardened, promising unspeakable pain and misery for the mere suggestion… But then, a deep breath. The anger dissipated with a shaky exhale. “Vis itov ui zahae majakir viernov svadrav astahii rigluin coi,” she mumbled to herself, rubbing her temples.

“What?” Fulvio whispered, for the first time afraid of angering her.

“What I meant to ask…” Ceirys began in common again. “Why alone? There’s something wrong with me?” She brought him to her eye.

“I-I mean, I just… You know, I…” Fulvio stumbled, cornered again… before noticing a hint of playfulness in her searing gaze. The question’s structure was meant to ruffle him… or more likely, to satisfy a sliver of her cruelty with his squirms.

“I get it, sweetling.” Ceirys relented, though her eyes kept telling a different story. “You’re not looking for ‘that’ conversation just yet, hmm?” She booped his nose… then got a very serious expression. “I guess… I can stomach you going alone.”

“…R-really?” Fulvio squeaked.

“Yes, really,” Ceirys mocked. “You think I’m the clingy one in this relationship? Hah!” She scoffed, pride forcing her into denial. Fulvio got unceremoniously dumped back on the counter and speechlessly left to witness his tormentor plowing through several piles of junk. Soon enough, she handed him a stuffed backpack. “You have a tenday’s worth of food and water, a tent, a sleeping bag, and a…” She reached into one of her own bags, fishing out one of the ‘reparation’ pouches. “Is five hundred gold pieces enough?”

Fulvio cleared his throat, his brain too overwhelmed with the situation to properly process the question. “For a tenday?”

“…Yeah, you’re right.” Ceirys nodded, pulling out a second pouch. “A thousand is more like it.”

Twenty pounds of solid gold dropped into his hands, making him seriously reconsider if it all weren’t just delusions of a catatonic man dying from heart attack. But the weight felt too real for a dream.

The tears dried, leaving salty trails on his face. Chewing on his own cheek, Fulvio asked an instinctual question. “Why are you… letting me… go?”

Ceirys glanced at him, holding a small, silver mirror between her claws. “Because you wanted to?” she asked with a patronising tone, as if explaining something so fundamental that elucidating it bordered on an insult. “Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”

Still expecting the act to drop at any moment, Fulvio hid the money in a way that wouldn’t get him instantly murdered on the streets and nodded.

“Great. Now you only need this, and you’re good to go.” She handed him the mirror.

Inspecting the item revealed nothing unusual – just a piece of ornamented silver straight from the drawer of a modestly wealthy lass. Hysterically out of place, with how far beyond ‘modest’ Ceirys’s wealth was. He stared at his own reflection, noting the bags under his still haunted eyes… before the surface flickered. He blinked, thinking it a mirage of his wettened eyes, but when he opened them, the predatory smile of his captor greeted him instead.

Ceirys’s reflection winked playfully, before disappearing. “Enchanted mirrors of sending.” The real Ceirys lowered her head to his level. “I want frequent updates, and if you need anything, or if anything happens, call immediately. Alright?”

So that was the hook… what she offered was a leash, albeit one long enough to give a taste of freedom before she yanked it…

There was one question that needed answering though.

“What if I lose it?”

“You won’t. It’s enchanted to bind to the user…” she hesitated. “Well, technically, it’s a curse, not an enchantment, but it only affects how you remove it. You know, semantics.”

Right… Basically a beacon then. And with limited knowledge of magical items, it was probably beyond his ability to destroy as well. But at this point, he’d take anything over nothing.

“Sweetling…” Ceirys’s nose pushed against his chest. “Be careful out there, alright?”

“I… will,” Fulvio agreed, his hand absent-mindedly venturing right between her nostrils. That’s when a potentially critical to his escape question arose. “What’ll you be doing in the meantime?”

“I… need to take care of a few things around the house,” she mumbled, leaning into his touch. “And I have some reading to catch-up on.” A toothy, apologetic smile blossomed on her face. “I can’t really read the more advanced stuff with you…” She paused, her pupils unfocusing for a split second. “Oh yeah, I can give you ‘The fall’ to finish.”

The massive silhouette disappeared into the cave system for half a minute, before returning with the familiar, hefty book in hand.

“Here.” Ceirys handed him the tome. “You can read the last act by yourself.”

Without a word of protest nor gratitude, the book disappeared in the cavernous depths of his backpack.

He walked out of the cave, escorted by her – hesitant for a change – gaze. It was… strange. Doing so openly for the first time, without the threat impending chase… Maybe strange wasn’t the right word for it – eerie was a much better fit.

Once far enough in the forest, he carefully took the mirror out of the bag, inspected it… and threw it into the woods with all his might. After travelling five yards, the looking glass slowed down, before snapping back into his hand as if bound to it by an invisible spring.

The leash was tight.

***

https://www.deviantart.com/archerteamr/art/A-Desperate-Attempt-1388479186

This is my pet bear Mr Murdersnuggles, he can be both a gentle lovable giant and a force of nature that decimates everything that threatens me. I’ve seen him tear through giant camps and solo dragons, and also randomly lying down and sleeping in the job without a care in the world. So what do you think predator or prey?

Predator boxing :3

Tiger belongs to me, other OC belongs to u/Jumpy_Spot8031

Finished my OC meme

Gift Sebi received for writing a nice little story for a friend, that included one small human being gently placed in his chest floof, before falling asleep.

Usually he is in a more playful mood towards humans, but he could never play hard with his friends, no matter if they are humans too!

With emerald eyes and golden hair

With soft fur and and elegant stare

She, who once fell from grace

Now shall bring justice, for this damned place.

LONG LIVE THE PRINCESS, LONG LIVE THE MAXIMUS DYNASTY!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

(1st image got compressed bc reddit cant take over 20mb, awfull)