McFassy Fortnight: Teaser – Robert & Nicholas
Professor Vogelmann finished up his lecture on Roman History, giving out the writing assignments, and reminded the class of the test next week. The students moans and whines, fell on deaf ears.
“You’re lack of planning doesn’t constitute empathy from me.” He gave them all look. “We got two review sessions next week, so take a breath.”
“Professor, will it just be on Roman, or all of Antiquity?” One of the students asked, as others started packing their bags.
“It will focus on Greek, leading into early Roman history. Next segment we’ll focus on the expansion of the Roman Empire. Pack up, have a good weekend, and see you Monday.” He closed his own books, and put them into his dark leather satchel, listening as the kids moved around and headed towards the exits.
“Have a good weekend, Professor.” One of the kids yelled out as they headed out, dodging a younger man who stepped into the room.
Nicholas smiled when he saw Robbie at the back of the lecture hall. He had one of the oldest around, still looked as if he was teaching history in the 1800’s. The building was the last on the renovation schedule, it would be at least another five years before he got an updated classroom.
As the last of the kids left, he could hear a few of them asking who the hot guy was. ‘It’s his husband.’ ‘Professor Vogelmann is gay?’ ‘Yeah who cares.’ ‘But…’ ‘Stop being an asshole. His husband is hot, my god just to see those two making out would be …’
He tuned them out and focused on his Mate. “When did you get back?”
“Got in this morning, I’m not sure what time it is let alone day!” Robbie had been on a world tour for his latest book, he lost track of cities, conventions and book readings. It was good to be home, and had no intention of leaving their bed for days.
He seductively walked down the last few steps, making his way to his Mate, who looked exceptionally hot in his suit and black robes. He leaned against the front school desk, smiling coyly. “I’m sorry I missed class Professor. I’m sure I can make it up to you.”
Nicholas gave his Mate a look, ignoring the fact he was half hard already. Robbie could get him off with just the filthy words coming out of his mouth, let alone wrapping those red lips around his dick.
“You’ve been gone half the semester.” He folded his arms across his chest, looking very stern.
“Family emergency, my nana was very sick.” He pouted, sighing dramatically.
“And you were a good boy by taking care of her.”
“I’m sure I can take care of you.” Robbie moved closer to the podium, and long table that still held some of Nicholas’ class papers. “Whatever you need, Professor. I’m good for it.” He licked his lips seductively.
“I needed you in class, to do you work.” He tried to keep the want out of his voice be he knew it was slipping.
“I’m sure I could do some extra credit.” Robbie moved around the table. “I’m really good at taking directions, all you need to tell me what to do Professor.”
“You think this seductive act is going to get you a passing grade?” Nicholas watched his Mate stalk closer.
“I know I’ve been a bad boy, you could bend over your desk for a spanking. Then fill me up with your hard thick cock. Drilling me until I scream, filling me up.”
Nicholas closed his eyes, imagining that very scenario. “And if want you to beg.”
Robbie dropped to his knees, mouth slightly open. “Did I mention I have no gag reflex, you can fuck my throat raw, making me swallow everything.”
“There are times I hate you.” He threw out his sense, making sure no one was in the area. “Unzip my pants.”
“Thank you Professor.” He crawled closer, until he was inches away from the large bulge, filling the tailored suit pants. With a shy smile, he unzipped the pants, and pulled out the thick cock. “So big, I can’t wait to taste it.”
Nicholas groaned at the sight of those lips wrapped around the head of his cock, with Robbie’s blue eyes staring up at him intently. There was a reason his erotica books sold mainstream. His Mate had a way with words, the amount of times he got off just reading the rough drafts was embarrassing.
But for Nicholas the very fact he was the one who got to taste those lips, feel his hands roam across his body, and slide into his tight heat, made it all so much more erotic.
He reached down, gripping the long locks as he fucked into that filthy mouth, enjoying the moans pulled from his Mate’s throat. He wasn’t going to last, and they both knew it – they had been apart for too long. In mere moments he was coming down Robbie’s throat, breathing out his release out, controlling the need to scream his name.
Robbie wiped his mouth with the back of his hands and stood back up, giving Nicholas a smile. “God I’ve been thinking about that for days.” He leaned forward kissing him, hot and passionate, letting him taste his own essence. “Was that good Professor.”
“I think you might need to retake your test.” Nicholas grinned as he pulled him closer, kissing him again. “Welcome home, Robbie.”
“It’s good to be back, my dear Nicholas.” He laid his head on his Mate’s shoulder, just enjoying being in his company.
McFassy Fortnight: Teaser – Marquis de Kai
It was fear.
Pure and simple.
As sharp as a fracture through crystal.
As clear as a breath of calm, frozen air.
It made his chest ache, as though in reminding him of the heartbeat that such a moment would once have set pounding so desperately fast.
He had broken the rules.
For the first time in a very long time, he had done wrong.
And he would suffer for it.
His Master already knew.
Of course he did.
Their Bond was so widely open, that such a rush of guilty shame and fear could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was.
In part he was annoyed at his own stupidity, for it was one thing to maintain dignity and self-control while on occasion suffering the results of having committed some minor infringement of the simpler rules that governed his life. But it was something else entirely to confess an infraction of far large magnitude that would take time and effort to repair.
His fear was clarifying though, reminding him of the reasons why rules existed for people like himself. He needed their limitations, their certainties, their shape and scope to define his life.
Everything had rules.
Everything mattered.
And so even as he stripped off his clothes, he placed them neatly where they belonged, before adorning his body with the symbols of his status as the Slave he had become for his Master.
It was a familiar sensation, to put on the thick leather cuffs at his ankles and wrists. The metal ring that hung from each one, had been fashioned to match the much smaller version he always wore on the forefinger of his left hand, and the one that pierced the head of his cock.
The metal served its purpose, with or without recourse to other forms of restraint, for his Master had a particular skill in more than just the manipulation of his body.
He smiled, despite the knowledge of what was yet to come.
His Master was unhappy with him, and that would require correction. But he knew what he had done wrong, and he knew how to make amends.
Contrition.
Obedience.
Suffering.
Kai looked at himself in the full length mirror, satisfied that his appearance was both pleasing and appropriate in the naked vulnerability of his well toned flesh.
As with everything, there was a time and a place for nudity, and a reason for its necessity. His body was, after all, not his own. It was the property of his Master, who enjoyed it’s many fine attributes, in many creative ways.
Kai had only to take the very best care of it, in every way, and for that he was lavishly granted whatever he might desire.
Which rather made his own foolish slip up all the more shocking to his own mind. That he could have forgotten something so important…
He sighed, adjusting his hair slightly so a wisp fell across his forehead innocently, and enhanced his eyes.
He was ready to face the results of his failure, knowing that it would make his Master proud, and further enhance the Bond they shared so freely.
When the Marquis stepped into his private rooms, Kai was waiting.
With deliberate intent he slowly closed the door and locked it behind himself, never once shifting his gaze from his Mate, who knelt in naked subservience on the bare floor at the foot of the bed.
Eyes downcast, hands at his sides, back rigid, knees placed at the correct angle to allow for nothing hidden – he was perfection.
Had the moment not required serious discipline, the Marquis knew he would have instantly softened all the tightly held rage and personal embarrassment that his Slave had so thoughtlessly brought to him.
Kai had not failed him so, in a very long while indeed, which forced him to wonder whether his Mate was subconsciously desirous of the punishments to come.
Nothing had to be said.
Kai knew that apologizing was pointless.
So too were excuses.
None were required.
None would be accepted.
He would scream when it was permitted, and that would serve due purpose.
But not before he suffered.
The Marquis took even strides toward his Slave, with slow, steady purpose, stopping only when he knew the toes of his immaculate, hand-stitched Italian loafers were within sight of Kai’s unflinching vision.
The pause that followed was exquisite.
In his right hand he already carried the cane that would mark its correcting fire on Kai’s buttocks, and he was tempted to tap it impatiently on his own thigh as a warning.
But Kai knew what was required, and with a grace that belied his physical build, he bent forward, palms flat on the floor to either side of his Master’s feet.
And with great reverence he placed a kiss on the toe of each shoe.
It was a fine beginning indeed.
McFassy Fortnight: Master David
Master David Aesthetic
“When done correctly, there should only be pleasure.”
The words murmured in his right ear, struggled to make themselves understood against the sudden surge of pressure rising up within his gut.
No stranger to the ways in which men used men for their own physical purposes, he knew he was indeed far more than the chattel he once had been, yet in this new learning he again felt as helpless as he had been back then, trapped in all his weak smallness beneath the heaving flesh of a rutting Lord who cared nothing but for his own sexual satisfaction.
Sweat prickled down his back. “It is unusual,” he agreed, disturbed at how easy it had been to accept Harold’s instruction without thought to his own desires.
Sexual coupling had thus far in his few enough years, been in no way an experience worth describing as pleasurable, yet there he was naked, lying on his stomach across soft, warm furs before the fireplace in his very own room, discovering an entirely new degree of intimacy he could never have imagined.
Upon the nearby couch sat Rhys, watching the lesson he had confessed himself to have once learned at the hands of his Mate, whose own instruction in such matters had been far more brutal than there were words to adequately describe.
Knowing he was not alone in having experienced great sufferings in his youth, had endeared him to Harold most deeply, and impressed upon him the growing belief that men could in fact share themselves without recourse to shame, or fear, or torture.
For his part, Harold had embraced him almost as a favoured nephew, and so they had come to a mutual understanding no one else could really grasp who had not endured the abject humiliation of once being owned as a plaything to be abused at whim.
David gasped, finding his fingers clenching into the furs even as the gentle fingers inside him pressed once more into his aching flesh, and then repeated the same gesture not unlike a rampant man spearing his insides.
Heat far richer and more intense than that which the flames in the hearth could themselves provide, began to burn somewhere within him, not from the penetration of his entrails, but rather from a more internal source within his body, one only he could sense. It stole his breath, and as Harold placed his other hand firmly, palm down upon the curve of his back, so David found himself whimpering, urging from his thought every hideous recollection of times past when other men were not so kind, or so considerate toward him as to ensure he was pleasured by their ministrations.
In fact, it was a constant source of wonder once he knew that pleasure was permitted him, and that he was capable of receiving it.
When told of it, he did not believe until finally it was shown.
There.
In his own room.
Before the fire.
Safe.
Needed.
Wanted.
That he was being watched, mattered not at all.
They were naked, the three of them.
Equals.
Nothing hidden.
Nothing unexplained.
Nothing granted without consent.
All questions answered.
Without the slightest shame.
He squirmed as new sensations assailed him, the likes of which he had never felt.
There was no containing it.
No words could do it justice.
He was aroused, and increasingly in need of the relief that only a hand could otherwise have wrought upon his inflamed manhood.
But it was untouched, and so he wriggled against the furs, seeking release, unsure how to make it so.
The whine in his throat became a plea, though he knew not why, nor what he wanted to say.
Sparks akin to those on a badly balanced fire, illuminated his vision.
And while he wanted it to end, he wanted also for it to never end.
It was a strange insanity, and it took him a moment to realize that Harold was urging him quietly to let go of all the fears he still retained.
It was trust.
No more than that.
Trust in himself.
Trust in the man teaching him.
“I don’t know how!” he wailed, his face hidden in the furs.
“Stop fighting,” Rhys said firmly, remembering his own first explorations at the knowing hands of his Mate. “Accept that it is real.”
David let his fingers unclench.
Then his shoulders ease.
With deliberate effort, he forced his aching buttocks to relax and accept the invasion pushing up inside him over and over again.
When the moment of triumph came, it hit him so completely it was terrifying, and a cry burst out of him that spoke of his first real climax at the behest of another.
The warm flow of his own seed spilled copiously onto the furs, and it amazed him that he could be brought to such a response without his cock being stroked or even held.
The fingers gently withdrew from his body, and it caused him to shiver, yet Harold remained beside him, rubbing his back, easing him past the moment tenderly.
There was no embarrassment.
No shame.
Nothing had been demanded of him.
Nothing was required.
Catching his breath took him a while, but there was no rush.
He could lay there for as long as he wished.
He was permitted to enjoy.
There was much he still wished to learn about himself, now that he was free, and that night’s lesson was just the beginning.
He knew he was somehow liberated all the more by being allowed to discover a better, nobler dignity in himself.
“Teach me more?” he asked at last, blinking up at the sweet man he was so indebted to.
And Harold smiled wisely in return. “One thing at a time, I think.” He nodded. “Slow and steady with all this.”
David chuckled. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome. Perhaps in times to come, you can then teach others too. You could help them also understand. You could show them that there is no shame or fear in being a whole, knowing, sexual person.”
It was an appealing concept. “I like that idea,” he agreed. “I like that I could help others be unafraid.”
McFassy Fortnight: Joshua Faraday
Joshua Faraday Aesthetic
He had left everything he knew behind. Started off on a grand adventure, to see new worlds, and experience life out of a saddle.
Joshua tip his hat, and gave the porter a smile as he settled the steamer trunk next to him. “I just need to go out front, pick up a carriage to get to my hotel?”
“Yes sir.” He motioned for a small boy, who looked to be about twelvish, wearing the uniform of the ship. “Billy here can show you the way.”
“Are you a real cowboy?” The kid stared up at Joshua taking in his jeans, button down cotton shirt, covered by a leather vest, accented by a long dark duster. Finished off with a cowboy hat and boots.
“Sure am. Born on the plains of the Wild West.” He squatted down to be closer to the kids eye level.
“You fight Injuns?” The kid asked in full wonderment.
“Actually, was good friends with a few. Good people.” He gave the boy a last smile, then stood looking down at him. “So where do we go from here?”
“My good man, I couldn’t help but overhear you, is the Wild West show back in town?”
Joshua turned to see a middle aged man wearing an expensive suit, with an actual Top hat and cane. “I’m not with Buffalo Bill’s show, just got off the ship, was seeking some culture and decided to tour Europe.”
“Well in that case, I’m Lord William Beringar, and let me show you London.” He held out his hand, smiling brightly.
Joshua took it, giving him a good handshake. “Thank you, I’m Joshua Faraday, just a simple cowboy, who’s not quite sure where to start.”
“First let’s get you settled.” He pulled out a few coins and looked down at the boy. “Make sure his trunks arrive safely and untouched.”
“Yes sir.” He nodded eyes wide at the extra coins. “Will do, sir.”
Joshua tipped his hat, gave his thanks to the Ship steward who was kind to help him, the past few weeks, and then followed Lord Beringar out into the streets of London. He ignored the stares, second glances, and comments as he made his way down the street, following William who was talking about his trip to New York, and how he had wanted to visit the West, but hadn’t realized how far away it was from the city.
“It’s a vast country.” Joshua gave him a small smile. “I’ve only seen portions of it, mostly the middle and from the back of horse. But there is still so much to see, once I’ve finished touring the old cities, I want to travel more of my home before settling down.”
“Do you have a little lady back home?” He asked with a grin, knowing he had gotten the western lingo accurate.
“No. My life wasn’t suited for marriage. I got some years yet, before … ” He suddenly stopped, turned and grabbed the hand of the teenager who was trying to take off with his wallet. “Nice try kid, but last I checked you’re not supposed to feel me up in the process.”
“Oh shite.” He stared at Joshua with wide eyes, as he backed up bowing his head. “Sorry Jake didn’t recognize ya’ in the cowboy get up. I had no idea the Rooks were out this far.”
“Who the hell is Jake or these Rooks?” Joshua asked with a frown.
“I get it.” The kid glanced at Lord Beringar, then gave another bow to Joshua. “I’ll be goin’ now, sir.” And with that he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
“Well that was odd.” Joshua turned back to William, giving him a shrug. “Show me this city of yours.”
McFassy Fortnight: Paul Mallory
Paul Mallory Aesthetic
(This snippet ties into The Russian Spy)
As Paul made his way through MI:6, he couldn’t help but think for a spy organization it sure had a lot of glass walls. He had got the call from M, early in the morning, requesting his presence. He couldn’t read her tone, or figure out what she needed him for.
It could range from a new mission as a Double-O, an under the table mission to break into some Nazi asshole house to go through their safe, or request for lunch. Either way he made sure to pull out his best suit, and look presentable.
He settled outside Moneypenny’s desk, giving him a smile. The latest assistant was tall and very handsome, M was probably enjoying the eye candy, he did look aesthetically pleasing in the designer jeans. He wondered if it had stopped James from flirting, likely not.
His older brother’s main mode was: Flirt.
“She’ll see you now.” Moneypenny gave him a reassuring look. “Warning, she’s annoyed about something.”
“Isn’t she always?” Paul put away his iPod and headphones. It was starting to get old, but it was perfect for him to concentrate.
“Get in here Paul!”
“I see what you mean.” He ignored the staring at his ass, as the door closed behind him. With a flick of the wrist he unbuttoned his suit and sat down in the front of her desk. “What can I help you with M?”
“I have a mission for you.”
“Official or unofficial?” He could tell by her tone, she was upset about something.
“Unofficial for MI:6, but officially for the Clan.” She leaned back in her chair, watching him intently, waiting for a response.
“Okay.” Though he had never been introduced to Arthur, or for that matter many members of the Vampire Clan he was involved with. He had been turned twelve years ago, and still hadn’t taken a trip down to Cornwall, he figured that was mostly due to M. “What’s going on?”
“A traitor rose up in Sylum, one who was attached to Camelot. His last communication was to another traitor here in England.” She had a small snarl on her face, if there was one thing she despised was traitors. “As you are not known in the Clan, I want you to follow them.”
“Who?” He asked shifting in his seat to take the file folder she picked up off her desk to hand him.
“Danny Blue.” She gave a quick intro of the Vampire, while Paul read the more detailed reports. “I need you to talk to Jacob Frye, it would seem the idiot pissed off the Rooks, and they’ve been keeping an eye on him for a while, it’s how we got most of the information.”
“The idiot who runs around the rooftops in a top hat?” He asked with a smirk. “He’s got style, will give him that.”
“He’s good, don’t let the ‘idiot’ play you.” She gave him a smirk. “Him and his sister have good control of the East End, and know more of what’s going on in this god forsaken city than us half the time.”
“I’m sensing a trip to the Rookery. James has stated a few times the food was good.” He finished memorizing the information, and then put it back on M’s desk. “Anything else?”
She slid a phone across the table. “Dump your old one. This will be the only one you use, it’s encrypted to the point even I can’t fathom. Don’t let Q see it, as he would want to marry it and have its babies.”
Paul picked up the phone fiddling with it a bit. A thumbprint was required to open the screen, he set his thumb on the dot, watching with a sense of dread and awe as it scanned and then peeped. The phone was nothing like he had ever seen, it was slim, sophisticated and had apps he was sure weren’t standard.
“Fancy.” He flicked through it, blinked a few times when the music section was filling up with albums he preferred. “Really fancy.”
“Don’t ask.” She stood, taking the file folder to the shredder. Took a second to give Cockatoo a pet, and snack. “Have you heard from Dr. Evan?
“He’s going to Rio, something about a Sloth Sanctuary. James suggested he stay at Sanctuary Clan, that they had lots of Sloths.”
“Oh yes, adorable creatures. I should send Vachon a note, it’s been a while.” With a last pet, she sat back down. “This could lead into places that no one is expecting.”
“I’ve been in weirder situations.” He pointed out, slipping the phone into his pocket.
“I know.” M hesitated, then gave him a rare smile. “Paul, you’re my youngest boy. I know you’re good at what you do, very good. You wouldn’t be a Double-O if you weren’t. Just be careful, and read up on the Illuminati while you’re at it.”
“Now you have me intrigued.” He stood, moved around the desk and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Do I have backup?”
“James or Craig, or your father. Trust no one else.” She patted his cheek. “Go talk to Jake, he’ll let you in on a few things.”
“I’ll head over there now.” He buttoned his coat, and headed for the door.
“Paul… be careful.”
“I will.” And with that he left the office, gave Moneypenny a smile, before heading towards the elevator. He had a feeling his life just got interesting.
McFassy Fortnight: Charles Victor
Charles Victor Aesthetic
He looks at me with disappointed eyes.
I see it.
And he knows I see it.
He has never made it secret.
Why should he?
Instead, it has taken me far too long to figure out the meaning in his expression, especially given that it wars so closely with my father’s.
Unlike Victor, Craterus is by far the more patient man.
His love for me runs deeper.
Hotter.
Yet there it is.
His disappointment.
What can I say to that?
Men have never talked in this house as they should.
Perhaps I am alone in recognizing it?
At times, I know when I am wrong. I am not so foolish however, as to imagine I am always wrong.
Men such as Victor are not required to either explain or justify themselves. They are simply a force of nature, and to get in the way of their endeavors is to face the brunt of their ire.
And so, again, I may say I am not always wrong.
I am, on occasion, in the wrong place perhaps.
Dearest Craterus does not see it thusly, nor does he recognize the moment for what it is.
Before Nature, can any man defend his right?
I am not a Shakespearean character that I might bellow fruitlessly at the coming storm.
At least as a Vampire, I heal the faster.
There is blessing in that, before some unfortunate believes me the victim of an entirely different fist.
Craterus asked me yesterday – at last! – why I permit myself to be so abused.
Whereupon I did reply with some haste, “Why do you permit it?”
And with that, my father may well have struck the same blow upon him as my words did cause.
It was a considerable shock to us both, I dare say, and my chagrin granted me to stutter and stumble over my own tongue as though I had become naught but a babe again.
I would not hurt darling Craterus for the world, but only then did I pause long enough, stuck in that awful moment, to realize my physical discomforts at being so struck had indeed been felt by him each time too, from as long ago as our Bonding, if not before.
Why would he not tell me this?
Did he think I already knew?
And why do those around about me assume I must always inherently comprehend what none have actually deigned to teach?
On occasion then, I am the fool my father sees.
And the disappointment that Craterus endures.
Where lies the future in all of this?
I was not gifted the precognition to know it, despite my other silent skills, but resolve from this moment forth to be the catalyst that at long last fires the dawn instead of following the dying day to dusk.
McFassy Fortnight: Craterus
Craterus Aesthetic
The first time he’d seen Victor backhand his Mate for some trivial and otherwise minor offense, it had taken every fiber of self-control he possessed not to rip the man’s head off and piss on his ashes.
For his part, Charles had stood there and taken it stoically, blinking back the stinging tears that sprang naturally to his young eyes.
That had been a very long time ago indeed.
And since then, Craterus had catalogued a considerable number of bruises inflicted upon his beloved, each met by that same determined stare in return.
He wanted to believe that eventually all that pain would reach its peak, and with it the years of resentment his Mate had surely to have been building.
For Charles never fought back, despite having been very well trained to defend himself by a pair of old friends who never gave him an inch when it came to developing the necessary skill sets for a whole lot more than merely self-preservation.
Craterus had reconciled himself by sheer force of will, to the obvious vulnerabilities that came from being so remorselessly tied to a man in his life who had made it abundantly clear that should the need ever arise, he would have no problem removing even his own son from the world, for the sake of maintaining all that he had built.
Thus it was, that he tolerated – albeit barely – the blows which inevitably followed that very first.
Much had been done in secret, away from Victor’s prying eyes and ever present, ever grasping reach.
Much was still to do.
And Craterus was disciplined enough to reach his goal, though yet again he was made very well aware of the power his own Sire could wield, as into their home Victor brought the bitch who would doubtless be the downfall of them all.
The blow that fell upon his Mate’s right cheek that day was loud enough to be heard from the lobby all the way upstairs to the shadows on the balcony, as it cracked with vicious fury and deliberate malice.
Once more, Charles said nothing, though Sidney snickered like the self-satisfied little asshole he had become.
Instead, it was Craterus who flinched, watching at the railing, waiting for retaliation.
It had to come.
One day.
Surely.
McFassy Fortnight: Teaser – Quintus & Arianne
“Are you writing all this down?” he asked, unsure about being in such close confines with so terrible a stench, even though he had been subjected to his own fair share of appalling smells and dreadful sufferings down the many long centuries of his life.
“Of course!” she replied, horrified to imagine that such a situation might come her way and she be remiss enough not to document its entirety. “I might not yet be aware of who exactly would benefit from it, but I am not prepared to lose sight of the significance of this poor man’s injuries.” Arianne had never truly seen such a thing, even in her own long experiences, and she was still somewhat struggling to reconcile her patient’s tenacious desire to live, with the all consuming nature of what he had thus far endured.
Several times, during the worst moments, when no sedation had been able to keep him at ease or free him of pain, she had begged him go to God and end his torments, for he was indeed a man of the strongest faith. Yet he had refused, no matter the consequence to himself
It made her wonder who exactly he was punishing.
His reasons for being thrust into her care, were hard enough to understand for one not particularly well versed in the ways of either politics or current social thinking.
Not that she was a fool.
Not by any means.
She was simply a woman raised to mind her business, leave the ways of men to those who could maintain them – whatever their ills – and do as she had been chosen by the powers of providence to do.
She was a healer.
And from that she took great contentment.
The rest was of little concern.
Or so she’d imagined.
Until there before her, lay a corpse refusing to die.
Though at one point she had figured it rather generous to even think of him in corpse-like terms, when he was but a fraction of anything immediately resembling life.
That he bore her husband’s face, had itself been made all the more shocking by those who carried him into her home, as they too were quite clearly of the same kin.
Stubborn then indeed, was her husband’s blood.
It was he who had taught her reading and writing, for until the day he discovered her to be incapable of either, she had simply retained her learning in her head, carrying all she had experienced and come to understand, in the very same way her mother had, and her own mother before that, seeing no other need to instruct anyone else once her people forced her into the forest and left her there condemned as a witch, to perish at the vengeful hands of the winter’s cold.
Fate had destined her life to a different path than the one men once thought to grant, and whilst she’d thrived upon being left to her own devices, it had taken her Mate to finally unlock the strange mysteries of reading and writing for her, that she might eventually keep record of all that she knew, and then aid others in need of her medicines.
Poor Quintus had often been hard pressed to keep her well supplied with the necessary tools, and he had learned to make a great many writing implements for her, from stylus and pencil, to tablet and paper. For she recognized the virtue of her continued crafts, and the need to leave instruction for anyone who might think to follow her path some day.
“He will live?” Quintus asked, not especially shocked at whose face he found himself staring at the night her newest patient arrived, but the man was of red hair, and he already knew that those with such coloring were more naturally inclined to tolerate pains with ease.
Although they also tolerated fools with great temper.
“In his place, so too would you,” she replied.
For the first few weeks she had barely left the man’s side, and been eager to assure him when he woke, that he was never alone in any of his anguish.
As time had gone on, Quintus fashioned various means for preventing him from causing any further harm to his damaged parts, and had expressed a certain fascination with the healing processes he could see occurring.
“As a human, without the benefits of our extraordinary nature, there would be no returning,” he muttered, “but as he is, he is.”
“And he is remarkable,” Arianne admitted. “Worthy of your blood line, husband.”
“And your tears, woman. I have heard you grieve for him. I have felt it.” He put her left hand over his chest. “Would that I had you by my side when first I was myself returned from the dead.”
“You torture was but brief compared to his.”
Quintus nodded sagely. “Ay, there’s the truth of it.”
“You ask me daily if he will continue to fight, and I tell you daily, yes. His body and it’s workings already fill several of those books you brought me from the city. I will need a good deal more before we are done.”
“And you shall have them, of course. One day there will be those who find your work of highest value. I don’t doubt it for an instant.”
“One day,” she mused, “when men no longer value life the ounce and death by the pound.”
Quintus kissed the top of her head as she turned from him back to her patient. “One day,” he answered firmly. “One day.”
