Hege walked with indiscriminate purpose straight into the screeching fires of hell.
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All hell broke loose. One strong arm wrapped around Sherry and Leep Andrews, and shanghaied them out of the room and into the spartan interrogation office. Neither of them had even really processed that they were being lifted and manhandled. The Co-O5s watched in morbid fascination as E-3703-01 tumbled through the air and slammed into the table. Stunned at how fast things were developing, it took a bellow in Leeps ears from Grynwald, the red scaled Finnfolk who had yanked them up and out of the room, to snap her out of it.
"Keep that faen door shut!" the Finnfolk yelled as she kicked the door to the viewing room closed, the other Finnfolk guard pressed her whole being against it. What Grynwald knew that Leep, Sherry, Silus and the Foundation guards didn't, blossomed on the other side. Bristling and sudden explosive heat shattered glass on the other side of the door in an otherworldly unholy screaming noise. The guards and Silus threw themselves against the door to keep it closed. Fire alarms started screaming.
Finnfolk magistry is a finicky and dangerous thing. It relies on consciously holding the Rustic in your mind and channeling it through the motion of your body. Master or Elder Rustic require extreme concentration and mastery to wield, lest they consume the wielder. During the process of casting or channeling Rustic, loss of focus is problematic for normal Rustic, dangerous for Master and Elder Rustic. Loss of consciousness? Guaranteed cataclysm for the latter.
E-3703-01 had called two.
"Go!" Silus shouted at Grynwald and the O5 duo. "Get them clear!" the metal of the doors groaned with the heat.
Grynwald booked it out into the hallway, as if an antelope being chased by a pride of ravenous lions.
Leep looked back around Grynwald's arm. A deafening boom came from the room they'd just been in, and columns of fire rippled out from the doorway.
Oh gods. Shapes billowed in the fire resolving into screaming faces, monstrous beasts, a furious dragon. All of it screeched towards them. The noise was deafening, roar of flame and that screeching squeal that ground against her eardrums.
"Fuck!" came from Sherry next to her. A fire door descended from the ceiling ahead of them, a heavy bulkhead designed to contain flames. Grynwald slid under it before it could completely close, releasing the twin O5s and causing them to tumble.
The roar of the thaumaturgic flames and soul rending screeches were audible on the other side of the door as they slammed into it.
It took a moment for Sherry and Leep to shakily stand, and look back at the door. Both stumbled slightly back as there was another bang, Grynwald wincing as thaumaturgic discharge echoed.
"What," Sherry asked, wide eyed, "the hell—was that!?"
It was becoming a very annoying trend for Triemedes to return to consciousness with a skull splitting headache in strange places she didn't recognize. Or maybe that was just how her life was fated to be, as she took a moment to actually count. To think about the number of times she'd come back to reality like this; the number was way too high. It's a mither-damn miracle I don't have permanent brain damage. Something was screaming far away, it made her brain throb, even as it slowly faded.
Her breathing was normal, no rasp of serious injury, though her nose certainly pounded, heat pooled behind it. Oddly, that was fading pretty quickly. And her hands… her hands felt… Well, actually, she couldn't feel her hands. That's not good. Her eyes opened and she held her arms up in something akin to panic. Panic faded to shakey relief. Her hands were there in front of her… but she couldn't feel them. She could move them, watch them wiggle, though at the moment there was a Rustic glowing on the palms. That… didn't make much sense.
Then her eyes focused on the surroundings. Stars. The brilliant colors of nebulae and gasses, wide spectrums of light glittering in an endless void. The air was rich here. So rich.
Ok, Astral plane, that makes sense… but how the fukka did I get here? She closed her eyes again, breathing deep, to try and stay level and calm. Was she dead? Something told her death would be this peaceful. A soft peace, a quiet end on the softest sheets, of the most comfortable bed imaginable.
…
…
Wait. She sat upright and blinked, legs drawn in and curled up. She was seated on a large bed, shaped like a clam shell. The sheets were of a a material that felt like the softest, fluffiest clouds. Pillows as large as a person.
"Love." Someone was speaking to her, a soft voice almost a whisper in her ear. A voice that penetrated into her skull, bounced around inside, and rattled parts of her emotional cores that hadn't truly been activated in 5 millenia.
An arm draped around her shoulders, languidly soft with femininity and human texture, as she turned to look at the speaker. Four yellow eyes greeted her on an otherwise largely human face. The smile on her lips was that kind of smile. The sort of hungry smile, teeth just barely showing, that someone gives a large meal when they are starving. Triemedes heart fluttered, and her brain started to melt and shut down.
"Alva…" she struggled to find the words. Her head dropped to look down.
"Shhhh…" The goddess put a finger on Triemedes' lips and held it there for a moment. She trailed it down and turned it over. Color blossomed behind the scales of Triemedes' cheeks as Alva Móðir, love of her life, goddess of her people and heart, tilted her chin up with a provocative finger. "I missed the feel of your flesh, the beat of your heart, the curve of your chin. Kiss me and give me your all once more."
Triemedes sucked in air. A shiver ran up her spine. Her gill flaps fluttered, biting into her lower lip, utterly enraptured as Alva leaned in. The Finnfolk's eyes trailed momentarily, catching odd shadows dancing in the light of the stars behind her lover. Warmth blossomed against her lips, the goddess pressing the plush flesh against Triemedes'. Fireworks blossomed, painted the voided sky with color and shimmers as sparks flew.
Alva's free hand pressed into the Finnfolk's chest, pushing her gently and together they fell onto the sheets. Framed by the lights of the stars, Alva broke the kiss and pulled back a few inches. She was silhouetted against the void.
Triemedes' breaths became ragged and needful at the separation. She was starving for this. No words were enough to convey the devastation she felt the moment that kiss had broken. She was never the poet that her mother was.
Alva moved her hand, grasping the fabric of the gown covering her lover's front and with a rip it tore open, revealing her muscle bound abdomen and chest. In kind, Triemedes reached up and ripped the buttons from Alva's shirt, and paused. She sharply inhaled, taking in the curve of Alva's chest, the lines of her abdomen and the roundness of her hips. Alva fell upon her like a hurricane. Her hands moved to Triemedes', fingers intertwining as she pressed her body down on top of the Finnfolk's. It was less of a matter of Alva pinning her to the bed with her body weight as it was Triemedes allowing herself to be pinned.
Her ears filled with distorted noise as Alva leaned in to press her lips to Triemedes' once more.
Then, she caught sight of the roiling blue-green tentacle embedded in her lover's backside.
Roars and screeches raged behind the bulkhead doors as Sherry and Leep backed away, the metal groaning in front of them, bulging.
Sometimes, things are built to withstand a certain threshold, and they're very good at doing that. The builders of Guð-Bani had built the emergency blast-door systems to withstand catastrophic explosions, fires, intense water pressures, and just about every other contingency situation you could think of. What they did not prepare for was the heat, pressure and force of a continuous stream of pure fire turned plasma. It was like slamming a stream of magma against the metal with the velocity of hurricane force winds.
"That." Grynwald said matter of factly. "Was Aldrnari. The Elder Rustic of fire."
"She called two of them?" Leep asked.
"Yes. That door will not hold long." Grynwald said, voice strained with a grim tone.
"No shit." Sherry said watching as the metal started to glow. "We should run like hell."
"It won't do any good." Leep said, looking at her hands, counting on fingers. "The fire was moving far too fast for us to make it to the next bulkhead."
Sherry looked to their Finnfolk companion. "You can do a bit of… what do you call it?"
"Magistry. Thaumaturgy to you." The Finnfolk said. The bulkhead was buckling now, glowing orange. The metal facing was starting to visibly melt. "And a little."
"Could you buy us any time?"
"No. It would sweep the minor Rustics aside." She says with a sigh of resignation. "Only the Mither can help us now."
"So we die." Sherry stated plainly. There was no sadness there. Just anger. A raw anger Leep had seen many times before.
"Together." Leep took Sherry's hand looking at her face one last time. "Always together Sherry. I love you."
She looked back at Leep, her eyes softening. "I love you. Always."
Someone cleared their throat behind them. "I was quite familiar with your, how do you say, penchant for melodrama? Giving up so easily; however; is an interesting change of pace. Not the good kind."
Leep and Sherry Andrew's turned to face Queen Hege Aquailian of the Finnfolk. Their eyes went slightly wide, mouths a bit agape, even as the metal behind them screamed. A hand each went to their foreheads, a sudden sharp pain in their temples.
"You started without me and made a mess." Her face is flat, though her gill flaps flutter.
"You were supposed to be away on a dignitary mission." Sherry said through gritted teeth, shaking off the feeling.
A sudden pang of distinct pain burnt into her skull as if someone was shoving a needle into her frontal lobe. There was something deeply wrong and yet… right with that statement. There was nothing mentally on her schedule but at the same time… she felt like she was missing something important. "Was I? Hmmm — interesting." Bad interesting. This knot would need to be untangled, but focusing on it made the pain worse, and she couldn't afford that right now.
She blinked and moved, breaking the embrace of Sherry and Leep's hands as they hastily stepped out of the way. Leep continued nursing his temple as Sherry watched her. Her twine-like robes began moving, twirling around her as lines of light traced their way over her scale and fin-clad body in intricate and alien patterns. "We can discuss it later. This mess needs to be cleaned up."
The door gave way with a boom, the sound wave alone shoving Sherry, Leep, and Grynwald off their feet. Time seemed to slow down as molten metal, scorching air, and screaming fire blossomed outward like a flower petal. The petals deformed, reshaped, molten metal and fire warped into maws, great unending mouths full of sharp burning teeth. The maws closed towards her, threatening to tear into her wards and flesh. A sharp flash of light warped the hallway, light swirling along Hege's body and congealing on her torso.
The master Rustic of í blazed, outshining even the light of the fire. The strands of time swam around her, slowing at her command through í. Time. Yes. Time was hers to command. One arm raised, the other lowered, hands forming a vertical straight line as they moved in synchronous directions, sliding together. Light burned down them as they moved, symbols forming on the back of her palms. She blazed with unmatched brilliance. With a fluid motion, she shoved her hands out, a grunting noise escaping her lips.
The symbols on her palms flew from her fingers into the air, forming huge blazing lights. She batted the two symbols that appeared in the air with her right hand. Veðr flew forward, a great screeching wind that sliced the fire of Aldrnari. The faces and creatures in the flame severed, cut and parted as the screeches died against the wind. Her other hand came back and batted the second symbol, splitting it in two. Thick sheets of glacial ice ripped from her swatting fingers and her wrist in two lines that slammed the parted flames against the wall, extinguishing them and silencing the screeches as they rose again. The shape of the creatures and faces were captured eerily in the framework of the glacier before it began to melt.
Behind her, Hege could vaguely feel the eyes of Sherry and Leep looking on in shock and awe. But she didn't have time for that. This would only end one way.
Hege walked with indiscriminate purpose straight into the screeching fires of hell.
The distorted static rumbled back into normal sound as Triemedes gasped. Alva moved from her lips attacking her neck with ferocious affection. The tentacle danced in the space above them.
She followed the trail of the tendril with her eyes. She's a fucking meat puppet. She thought as she traced the tentacle to its origins. An undulating mass of flesh, matter and time hundreds of tridents away on the seemingly infinite sheets of the bed. Blues, greens, and yellows constantly shifting in color, projections and limbs forming and dissolving. Eyes. Infinitely many eyes and mouths for good measure. Claws, feet, hands, tentacles, club-like appendages. All of it roiling with an extremely fervent thaumturgical energy.
Even more curious was a larger tendril that connected to the mass and seemed to vanish off into the horizon in fragmented, almost spherical blobs of the same materials.
Triemedes pressed her lips together, the corners turning up ever so slightly between gasping breaths of rolling sensation. Her gill flaps, when they weren't being teased by Alva's lips, fluttered slowly. To a human it almost looked like she was smiling or amused. But really, this was concern.
"A-a-alva." She managed, squeezing her fingers with her own numb ones to try to get her lover's attention. At first she didn't even think she'd squeezed them because she couldn't really feel.
"Shhhh my love. We can talk after." She said diving back in only to be stopped by Triemedes' hand. Trying to gently catch her shoulder.
"N-n-no please. We shou-should talk now before you make me scream so hard I lose my voice, and sweep my mind away." Faen the wolves I missed her. If she had… if she had kept going I don't know if I could have stopped.
I should find the meat puppet — that should be gross shouldn't it? But it's not. I can't bring myself to care. Alva emitted a slight noise of dismay, but conceded the field for now. Sitting up, she allowed Triemedes to right herself. No move to get off of her lap was made, which was more than a bit distracting as the Finnfolk Queen composed herself. She touched Alva's hips tenderly to maintain the romantic contact.
How do I even start with this? She gestures to the blob in the distance. "You've lost mass." Good job, idiot.
Alva tilted her head, and she could swear the blob also tilted in some barely perceivable way. Triemedes glanced away from it now, looking at it was starting to really make her brain throb. She didn't like that for the obvious reason. Brain throbbing was bad — well, most of the time. What the two of them would be doing in a few minutes would be the good kind of brain throbbing.
How is that even going to work in here… are we in my head? Or the Astral plane. "Is everything… ok?"
Alva leaned back on her palms, eyes closing. She sat like this for what felt like a minute, but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Triemedes almost, almost considered whether she was actually ignoring the question and getting off on just her touch alone, mostly because the mass in the distance had started undulating extra hard. Still hurt to just glance at in the periphery, by the way, just less so than staring straight at her.
"I hadn't really noticed, to be honest with you." She finally said. "But now that you mention it I have." Another long pause. Her face was so… the way her eyes softened whenever she looked at Triemedes, the curls of her lips, the wisps of her hair, the way that tentacle moved behind her. It made her heart thump.
Her sudden drift into her own helpless sapphic moment was interrupted when Alva continued. "I've been spending a lot of… esoteric essence on trying to repair the seals." Another pause as she reached to place a hand back over the Finnfolk's, the touch electric as she ran her thumb over the smooth scales with gentle affection. "And I recently remanifested the only fragment that isn't chained in material reality."
She winced at the word seals. Fukka. I couldn't… I failed to stop him. Tears welled up in her eyes, of course now of all moments she'd start to feel again.
Hands gently held her cheeks. "Shhhh. That's not your fault." Alva gently reassured. "We should have pulled you out sooner when it became clear the seals were failing."
Tears rolled down her cheeks as Alva stroked the scales gently. "But I failed, Alva. I spent 2000 years in there and couldn't stop him." And then spent three years lying in a cot asleep. And now I can't do a faen thing to help because my body is so uselessly weak. She looked away, hands still on her cheeks, the tears flowing.
"Oh darling, you were in there for 5000 years." She tilted Triemedes head back toward her. "Hey! Listen you did better than any of us could have possibly hoped." She stroked her face, shifting on her lap to wrap her legs around Triemedes waist and pressed their foreheads together. Her voice broke for a moment. "I should never have asked you to do this. I almost lost you."
"I-I-I wanted to." Triemedes said, and wrapping her numb and slightly tingling hands around her.
"It's ok to scream. To cry. To weep for the things we've lost. But you did the best you could, far better than anyone else could have. No matter what happened I love you, with my entire being. I could never stop."
She sniffled and leaned in, kissing Alva, pressing her tongue into the goddesses' mouth. She didn't even care that she couldn't feel with her hands right now. All she wanted was to be one in body and mind in pleasure with her goddess. And nothing, not even the roaring static filling her ears, was going to stop her now.
As it turned out, walking through screaming, molten fire was hard, even for Hege. The burning static in her ears that she couldn't place wasn't helping. Both things were a bit of a problem, and her suspicions about the identity of the caster were seeming more and more justified. She could see the doorway ahead. She could see the columns of fire peeling off in the other direction, continuing to spew outwards licking at the confines of the protective moisture and ice field formed by Jǫkull. Beasts and monsters within the streams slamming themselves against the constantly renewing ice.
I lost control of Aldrnari when I was barely a tenth as powerful as I am now, and it almost consumed me. Controlling it to this day is difficult. This is the might of two and it continues. She turned this over in her mind. There were only a handful of Magisters who could be her peer, and none of them would be able to wield Aldrnari like this. She probably could, But to try would have been risky.
This had to be her. At this rate the Elder Rustics would eat her and through the hull of Guð-Bani before she could reach her. The time for caution was at an end.
Then there was that sharp pain in her mind, the conflict that she wasn't supposed to be here. That she was missing some vital and important meeting that, until Leep and Sherry had asked, had not existed in her mind. There was something deeply wrong there. It was very difficult to shove that pain away or compartmentalize it.
She touched a hand to her face, fingers cold from Jǫkull. Blood. She wiped her nose, it wasn't much but there was blood. The pain twisted through other memories as she tried to recenter her mind, as if there were things missing and were trying to force their way back to the surface. Static buzzed against her ears, coming and going with the pulses of thaumaturgic energy emanating from the epicenter. She couldn't do this right now. She needed to focus. So she shoved it all down and put her full devotion into the Rustics.
Hege made a motion with her hands, breathing outwards as she recentered Jǫkull. She ran, ignoring the metal as it groaned and sagged underneath her feet from the heat. She leapt, flicking one hand outwards. Thick sheets of ice leapt up to meet her feet. Where her feet touched she skid along, and built momentum, moving her body and feet in time to surf along the forming ice front. Fire whirled around attempting to sweep her up in its tendrils, fiery beasts snapping at her heels.
Without calling any Rustics, she silenced the screeching flames with a torrent of meltwater from the ice falling apart behind her, spinning around on the surface of the ice and bringing her arms up and then diagonally down, crouching with the motion as thick streams of water condensed and pierced the columns of flame, dissipating them. When she was young, she hadn't known that hydrokinetic potential ran strong in her family. It was only in the last year that she had discovered the capacity. She was not about to let it go to waste now. She landed in the doorway, raising her whole body upwards with the counter-momentum of landing on the ground, hand extended outward, palm facing towards her.
Jǫkull rippled outwards splitting in two as it smothered the portals the flames were coming from.
"Oh good, the cavalry. What took you so long eh?" In the center of the room surrounded by scorch marks in an otherwise untouched bubble of rather intense thaumaturgic energy were two foundation guards, Silus and the Finnfolk that had been left with them. Silus had 2nd degree burns, and one of the guards was in much more serious condition. Despite this, the commander seemed to be in good humor.
Somehow this keeps getting more interesting. They should not be alive. More fire in her skull, more sharp pain just behind her eyes. Buzzing static roared in her ears. Warmth dribbled down over her lips. She took a deep and shakey breath, and pressed it down.
Her gill flaps laid flat against their membranes and her head tilted, eyes slightly narrowed as they reopened.
"Hey, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, we don't know either. Go stop this shit before it melts everything."
Hege looked back to the doorway and moved quickly. Jǫkull was starting to take it's toll, and she could only pull so much moisture from the air. The air was dry, she could barely pull any moisture from the air particles. The volcanic temperatures and extreme currents of heat had shoved all the moisture out and away. She was going to start having problems soon if she had to draw on her own body's moisture for the Rustic. And the pain in her skull was not helping. This was hard. Stupidly hard really.
If I have an aneurysm now, we will all be doomed.
The Finnfolk Queen moved with purpose, reinforcing the ice barriers and renewing them against the flames. She glided through the ice barrier like a phantom, or rather more accurately, the ice unfroze and refroze around her.
"Show off." She heard Silus say before she was completely through.
The other side of her barrier was fully unexpected. The Finnwife that Hege Aquailian was fairly sure was Triemedes Aquailian, her great-great-great-great-grandmother, was pinned in the air in the center of the room, arms held out behind her back, hands just outside of a protective sphere of Thaumaturgic warding. It was horrible to watch, the hands continually burning up, dissolving, and then popping back into existence as the Rustics raged inside the appendages, blazing the whole room outside of the sphere, and inadvertantly into Hege's ice barriers with fire.
It really didn't help that Triemedes was drooling.
That horrifying process was interesting, but not as interesting as who else was in the bubble with Triemedes.
"Hey kiddo, you came in at both the worst and best possible times." Dr. Alva Móðir said looking at her.
Hege reeled, momentarily dissociating as the pain spiked in her skull. The static was deafening, drowning out the flames as thaumaturgical discharge peaked around her. She slammed back to Earth with a gasping breath.
"Mom?"
The static was deafening, and it was becoming concerningly regular now, Triemedes realized. Alva, the Mither, let out a playful growl that echoed across the rapturous space. She pressed against Triemedes aggressively and hungrily. Forgetting all about the static, the two of them fell onto the sheets. Alva's fingers became animalistic bone claws as they tore Triemedes skirt and loinguard from her legs, throwing the shredded tatters to the side as her fingers returned to normal. In turn the Finnfolk queen wrestled with the button of Alva's shorts, before yanking them down, grasping her panties and pulling them down right after.
Before, Alva had given her different equipment, it had been a wild and maddening experience. Tears were still on her cheeks but she didn't care. There was nothing more important before her right now than what was coming.
"How do you want me?" Triemedes asked, almost begging for direction.
"As you are." Her lover said emphatically.
Her heart thumped in her chest. Heat pooled in her lower abdomen, in her groin. The heat of unfulfilled desire.
"How do you want me?" Alva asked.
"Surprise me." She fired back, panting.
Alva smiled, with only the slightest bit of mischief in her voice. "As you wish my love." There was a noise, like flesh splitting apart. Alva shuddered, and panted, the mass in the distance roiling. Two tentacles, tendrils, gradiating from entirely too thick to narrow at the tip. These two tentacles emanated from the much larger tendril embedded into Alva's backside.
O-o-oh. Is… is this what happens everytime we… Triemedes swallowed.
Alva leaned in to whisper in her finned ear. "Become one with me again my love. Let's make the stars dance."
The Finnfolk Queen let out a small, fantastically uncharacteristic and high-pitched squeak, as her gill flaps fluttered, one would be forgiven for having mistaken it for the bed beneath them.
Alva kissed her, pressing her body against Triemedes, tongue pressing into her mouth as she entangled her fingers with the Finnfolks' once more. The two tendrils sensually wrapped around her ankles and began to slowly advance up her scale-clad legs, some sort of warm aphrodisiac tingling against her skin and seeping into her mouth. Her mind flitted, colors dancing in her vision, chittering noises ringing in her ears, loud drones and hums. Intense light and warmth, sensations she didn't understand dancing across her flesh.
Fukka. FUKKA. FUKKA ME. Was the only coherent thought dancing through her increasingly overwhelmed mind.
The tendrils caressed slowly curled and crawled across her thighs. Her hips squirmed in response, and then her back arched as Alva pressed her tongue deeper into her mouth, pressing down into her esophogaus as it became a third intimate tendril emanating into her body. She screamed, into the continuing kiss as lips locked together mashed against each other. Flashes of incoherent imagery, shadows dancing upon moving indistinct shapes, fire and warmth spreading everywhere.
One tendril teased her lower lips, then the other. Her nerves screamed in pleasured agony as one slid past the entrance, caressing the folds until that sensitive nub of flesh emerged from its hood, gently wrapping and manipulating around it. The flesh of the tendril merging with it, veins throbbing to the surface as millions of nerve endings fired at once, hooked into a nervous system so impossibly alien for a brief moment of clarity between the concepts flowing across her mind. Triemedes was deeply afraid that she was going to die.
Then the second tendril slid inside her slit, proctoring another burst of fire as it curled deep inside her. Her hips twitched and rocked as it began to thrust inside her, the tongue tendril doing much the same.
A deep and immense joy blossomed in her mind, shadows dancing in her mind, light and warmth, moving bodies, the breeze of a butterfly warping through time. The edges of her mind, of her being started to blur with the edges of her lover. The incandescent light of a thaumaturgic installation turning on, a roaring rush of something. Wax melting, flesh turning to jelly. Grinding, throbbing, hot things swirling in indistinct and unclear images that forcefully called forward the intense unmitigated joy of creation. Joy of being.
The wet slap of colliding bodies, the throb of her clit fused to the tendril. They were one weren't they? This is how they became one. Maybe it's how they'd always become one. The sudden blitz of a deep sadness, spheres of flesh and matter wrapping, darkness, and then joy against as more shadows and orbs and turning of thaumaturgic lights.
100 billion neurons all firing at the same time, mind overheating as floods of nonsensical simple images, blurry shapes and unclear figures, changes in light and dark and matter and flesh. Her hands, the hands she couldn't feel a damn thing out of, squeezed her lovers fingers tight. She screamed through the kiss, an agonized scream of pleasure as emotion, pleasure, fire of many things danced between their minds.
Water dripping into a full sink, darkness, sinking into the ground, the feeling of tumbling through a riptide. Triemedes opened her eyes, thoughts racing, impenetrable from that that was engulfing her. Four eyes, four sets of vision. Looking at her own body. Vision warping and then she was back in her own, looking up at Alva. She felt nothing. She felt everything. Gods did she feel everything. Her back arched, and she let out another scream. She could feel it, seeping into her flesh, she was losing herself, it was going to consume her. Alva was going to consume her. And she wanted it.
Back into the sea of images, the call of a morning bird, the crackle of a sizzling fire, the warmth of a hand being held. Throbbing hot tendrils thrusting inside her as she became less and less independent creature, more and more a part of Alva, the Mither.
Overwhelming joy, overwhelming heat and pleasure and content security.
And then she came. Oh how she came. It wasn't clear who came first, the tendrils dumping something hot, foreign, and sticky into her womb, her stomach, and her nervous system causing the body to writhe. And at about the same time, her caverns quaked, a mixture of viscous matter and her own juices dribbling out onto the sheets of the never-ending bed in a pool.
She saw herself on the bed. And then another smaller her on a smaller bed, and then even smaller. On and on forever, the stars dancing, flesh warping and dribbling like wax, everything melting in the hot agitated flames of orgasmic sensation. Double stars burning, slamming together, ecstatic affection and love raining down.
Drool, there was drool dripping out of her mouth. Dripping throbbing with heat swirling in shadow. Is this what it was like? To lose all inhibitions, to lose all sense of meaning or worry. She could drown in it. What even am I? Am I even? Something thought, in a million disparate voices, none of which she recognized as distinctly her own. The burning joy of endless creation and life raged like an inferno in her mind and body, every nerve across their shared strange gestalt nervous system absolutely screaming. It kept going and going.
She came down slowly, the fire of connected nerves pulsing into her body dissipating at an agonizingly slow rate. Minutes past. Maybe longer? She had no sense of time anymore. The tendrils in her caverns, and down her throat pulsed, causing her whole body to shiver with the aftershocks of both their orgasms. Slowly, carefully, the one in her throat withdrew, as the effervescent fire in her mind dulled, and then the tendril that wasn't fused to her.
She sloshed between her own body and the mass in the distance and the meat puppet that was her lover. Alva pulled back, and showered her with affectionate soft kisses, the sensation of feeling both her own body, and Alva's in the exchange forcibly causing her sense of self to swim, frayed at the edges, leaking out.
A gentle tug and push from… she wasn't even sure what, but something pushed her solidly back into her own brain. All the little frayed bits trickling back in flittering back into the jigsaw that was her sense of self. She wasn't sure how it was all gluing back together. She audibly gasped, shuddering, squeezing her eyes shut, squeezing Alva's fingers. She could still feel the touch from the other direction, but her own hands were numb. Intense love and affection showered through their intimate physical, mental, and metaphysical connection.
When she finally mustered speech, finally had the conscious coherence to actually engage with language she managed "Mitherfukka."
The retort was quick and violent. "Yes, that's what we just did. Wanting round two already?" A hint of teasing in her voice.
A whine escaped Triemedes' lips. A whine begging for mercy. She covered her face with her hands. The hands she still could not feel.
"…Alva. Why can't I feel my hands?"
"Oh, that. Well, you're currently unconscious after summoning two Aldrnari's to your command. Bit of a stupid move love. I've been keeping it from eating you for about five minutes now."
Memory and that static came roaring back to Triemedes and she groaned. "Oh fukka me!"
"Don't worry, Hege is here and she's going to fix it!"
"Who!?" she groaned even more unhappy at having someone else fix her mess.
"Your great great-great-great-grandaughter of course! Also my daughter. Complicated."
"Wait what!?"
"Don't worry about it right now! It's going to be fine. Everythings going to work out. Now, we're going to go again and again until Hege is done. We've got 5000 years to make up for after all." Her face had what Alva probably thought was the most reassuring smile imaginable. It was, unsurprisingly, not reassuring at all.
The static was so incredibly loud now. Hege thought for a moment she'd lost all hearing only to realize, no, it was the elder Rustics and something else equally powerful. Every discharge of thaumaturgic energy rippled through her being creating that static. It was unbelievable.
Hege stared for what couldn't have been more than a few seconds, processing who she was looking at, what the hell she was doing, and trying to grasp how and why. Blood dribbled from her nostrils. Deep red. A flood of memories whirred in her brain, newly returned. They focused around what had happened a year ago in New York. The revelation that Alva was her mother. The sudden cognitive dissonance of… overwritten memories bursting through the overwrite leaving her with a continous searing headache. Dr. Alva Móðir, fragment of the Mither, was her mother. Or had been her mother. Had been contained… by the foundation? But that was impossible. She was here right before Hege. Uncontained, and unfettered.
Something clicked in her head. Reality, my memories were rewritten. That's why I was supposed to be at a dignitary meeting today.
A flood of emotions washed over her, anger at her mind being tampered with, grief at the mother she never truly got to know, and a myriad of other mixed emotions that threatened to spill over. She couldn't afford that right now, she needed to focus lest she spark another magic disaster. That was really really hard with the headache.
"Figured it out pretty fast huh? It was a hasty rewrite. Not my best work." Alva said without looking over. "Even still I have to say, I'm impressed. You've somehow managed to completely resist the reality warp. Probably should have expected that from my daughter." A hint of emotion in her voice broke through with the word daughter. "Sorry about the headache, it'll resolve when this is over." She'd been around humans long enough to recognize sincerity.
Even still. "I would prefer it if you stayed out of my head."
"Yeah, that's fair. This is not exactly the reunion I wanted."
Hege said nothing back to that. The Finnfolk looked at her again, the sting of dissonance and memories still bubbling up. Alva's fingers were touching Triemedes' chest. But it wasn't just touching. The flesh was bunched up around where the fingers were touching, the Goddess' fingers burrowed into the skin, blue-green veins throbbing in her chest, branching underneath the scales all the way up to her head. This plus the splitting brain throb and bursts of static made her want to vomit.
"Look Kiddo, I know you're going through some stuff right now, but I cannot keep the double Aldrnari's from eating through your great great great great grandmother's life force forever. This whole situation is more than a bit my fault, so I'd really fucking like to set it right. Feel free to drag me over the coals later with questions, but you know, help your mom out?"
Her lips curled slightly down, gill flaps closing down as she took agonizing steps forward towards the fire.
Jǫkull is still holding, good. Every step felt like it took minutes, hours, the force of the fire and it's heat was so great. She drew her hand through the air and summoned a second Jǫkull, The chill of glacial cold flowing down to her hands. She reached the edge of the protective bubble, and reached for the hands. Great gauntlets of ice covered her webbed fingers as she pressed through the streams of disintegrating fire. It took everything she had. It didn't feel like it would be enough. She could feel the raw power of Triemedes behind those Rustics, it was almost as much as her own and she could be destroyed, here and now. Even worse, her mother, her goddess was feeding them so that they didn't consume the other Finnfolk.
She pushed, grabbed and willed, willed Jǫkull forward. She pulled on the Rustics in Triemedes' hands. It was hotter than hell. It was colder than hell. Her soul was tearing apart from the strain. Her voice tore from her throat in a yell, fire and ice dancing in her hands as she smashed the four Elder Rustics together against each other. From where their hands touched, a huge column of water smashed outwards. Adlrnari and Jǫkull died in a seething wave of steam and water in her hands. Hege rocketed backward from the force of the release with the wave, and slammed into the formerly melting and now solidified bulkhead.
"Ah shit!" Was the last thing she heard before it was her turn to black out.
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