Heroes, Chapter 12

Preface: Greetings, all! This is the twelfth chapter of the tale that began with “Heroes – Chapter 1,” and is the third story is a series that began with “What You Don’t Know,” also located on this site, although it features a mostly-different cast of characters.

As always, my standard disclaimer: The monster girls featured in this tale, and many elements of the setting, are based off of the works of Kenkou Cross, and as such this work is intended to be a tribute to his creativity. The characters, however, are my own. Pray neither sue nor steal; I have very little to take, but I love that which is mine.

Chapter 12 – Convert

     In spite of all the catastrophes that Simon imagined on his walk to the Second Home, the tavern itself seemed perfectly normal on his first glance as he walked into its cavernous main room.  If anything, it was even more boisterous than it had been when he had stopped by earlier.  With so many workers having finished their jobs for the day, this local watering hole became the dense heart of the community, with the waitresses weaving through tables and chairs with trays heavy-laden with foaming mugs, as voices competed to drown out the surrounding noises until all was a consuming sea of sound.  Any other time, the sight and sound of it all would have brought an odd sort of contentment to Simon, despite how unfamiliar it was to anything he had known.  Now, though, it was oppressive and grating, a lie of normalcy in the face of the crisis he didn’t yet understand, which had only been made worse by his own fecund imagination.

     Simon paused for a moment just inside the doors, and that was when he discovered that his initial impression had been false.  Sure, everything looked typical at first glance: the patrons were downing mug after mug while laughing and talking, and barmaids wiped down sud-soaked tabletops and brought hollowed tankards back to the washbin, near to where Charles Kramer stood polishing some of the glassware.  But Charles was even more rubicund than usual, his mottled rag threatening to polish the glass to a diamond sheen, and waitresses and customers both shot frequent, scarcely-veiled glances in the direction of the stairs leading into the basement of the tavern.  The eyes that flitted to those shadows were nakedly discontented, and some of the conversations had faded from the deafening boom of exuberance to the conspiratorial mutterings of those considering dreadful action.  The targets of those sullen glares were a pair of women attired in the black dresses and white aprons of servants, who stood erect and placidly as if unaware of the growing mutinous sentiment swelling in the bar, hands crossed in front of their waists and staring straight ahead as if robotically awaiting their next command.  Simon couldn’t bring himself to pity them for the anger gradually seeping in their direction, and took a bit of grim satisfaction in the fact that the patrons of the Second Home were also strictly protective of the place and its proprietors, human or no – especially Mary, who many had come to see as a sort of little sister.

     Simon glanced back at the people filing into the bar behind him, taking measure of his support.  John and Ceann were right at his heels, and Sarah entered just behind them – and, before the door could close, Gina walked in as well, her face set in a frown.  She must have seen them on the way and spoken with Sarah after she caught up, but Simon had been too focused on getting here to notice the discussion behind him.  Now that they had arrived, though, he took a moment to steel himself, and then looked over to Charles Kramer, who was lowering his glass and rag to the counter.  The two men exchanged nods of silent understanding, the hint of relief on the burly barman’s face being swallowed by his gravelly determination, and together they all marched on the two women standing placidly by the stairs, who bodily blocked all passage to the basement while behaving as if it were only natural that they should stand there.

     At the fore of the crowd, Simon was the first to draw near them, and both women looked up at him with slight smiles.  The one on the right reminded Simon of a kobold despite her formal attire, with long, drooping fluffy ears colored in a lupine grey, but her sleeves revealed plumes of similarly-colored feathers that trailed back up along her arm.  She was the one to greet Simon, meeting his gaze before lowering her hazel eyes in servile humility. “Mister Hopkins, it’s a pleasure to see you.  Mistress Mephistopheles had mentioned sending for you, so it is quite fortunate that you have arrived before we even had a chance to do so.  If you would be willing to wait just a short while, I am sure she would be eager to speak with you.” The woman’s voice was mellifluous and soft, and her smile was politely cordial, but there was a hint of iron beneath those genteel layers of satin – an unspoken assumption that he would be willing to wait, whether he knew it yet or not.

     “Pray forgive me, but I have urgent business inside.  I would be more than willing to speak with your mistress later, but I need to see Mary Kramer right away.” He stopped just in front of the pair of women, inclining his head in a ceremonial nod of greeting, but despite his civility the metal in his own voice was less artful in its concealment, and the way he glanced from one woman to the other left no question that he expected them to step aside, especially with his jaw set like he was ready to receive a punch.

     “Ida, Urey, please,” began John from behind Simon, and immediately the two women glanced in his direction, their eyes widening and smiles subtly sharpening.  The former warlock stepped alongside Simon, crossing his arms before his chest. “This is no time for games, and whatever Mephis ordered you, it’s crucial that we get to-”                 

     “Oh course, Master,” purred the other woman, whose skin was the deep blue of an early evening sky, framed by hair of a deep black that seemed almost liquid in the way it flowed down her back.  Her eyes were also black, aside from her unnaturally-luminescent, lantern-yellow pupils.  Even as she stood as statue-still as her colleague, there was something about her that seemed constantly in motion, as if internally, just beneath her skin, dark seas roiled in waves and twisted over her bones. “Master is ever so prompt to come to our mistress when there is something he desires.  But when she wishes to see him, when she longs to behold his face, oh! – then he is somewhere else entirely.  Ever in a rush, to and away, never at our mistress’s side where he belongs, where we can attend to him…”

     “Our mistress bade us have you wait until she was ready,” the other woman agreed, her soft voice lacking the teasing edge of her fellow servant. “I can call for Kama to see if she is nearly ready, but if you wouldn’t mind staying just where you are until then-”

     “This is important,” interjected Ceann, and again the women looked as one to the new speaker, though this time their gazes narrowed, and both matching smiles took on a harsher edge. “Mephis will understand.  I am sure she just wanted to make sure no one else, aside from John and us, would come in there.  You can let us by.”

     “How presumptuous, for a mere guard to declare what her lady desires,” mocked the woman with the pale blue skin, her eyes gleaming with mirth.   To Simon, her voice was somehow insidious, seeping into his ears like a coiling tendril. “One should consider her own station when it comes to giving orders, after all.”

     “Perhaps Miss Alpestria has forgotten who she was given over to serve, since she has spent so much time away from the manor?” commented the fluffier of the two servants, but her eyes now lacked any such softness.

     The dullahan knight glowered at the two women. “I serve whom I choose, just like you.  Just because my mother asked me to watch out for my-”

     Simon’s jaw clenched, and a bead of sweat wandered down his cheek.  Just beyond the two women was the darkness of the tavern’s basement, and he knew Mary waited within – but that was all he knew of her, and the dire possibilities of what had happened to her gnawed at him.  What if she was injured?  What if something had gone wrong?  Perhaps it had been the potions that John had asked Roger to make for her, or something else to do with living among monsters?  She was only in New Haven because of him, because of the way his involvement in her life had torn her from her roots and dragged her halfway across the continent.  What if she was in pain, and, as a healer, he was the only one who could help her?  Or, worse yet, what if he couldn’t?

     “-and maybe you should notice that you’re not exactly winning many friends for Mephis here, if you take a glance at the clientele,” hissed John, his head tilting in the direction of the open floor behind him, and the tables beyond. “These people are pretty protective of those they care about, and you don’t want to be on their bad sides.”

     “Our mistress requested that we stand here and keep anyone from entering, should she be in the basement for more than a brief while, and until she specifies otherwise-”

     Mary could be hurting, right then.  And it could be his fault.  Gina had said he was responsible for what had been bothering her – had it led to whatever this was? 

     “Our apologies, Master, but until our mistress is ready to see you, you should wait patiently.  Though I will gladly share with her how eager you were to behold her-”

    “If you two don’t get out of the way, then I will have to move you myself,” growled Ceann.

     “Oh!  How brutish!” gasped the yellow-eyed servant, covering her mouth with mocking affront. “Perhaps you should have spent more time on your etiquette lessons instead of sweating in the practice yards…”

     Simon had to see Mary.  Had to know she was okay.  It was more than a thought, more than emotion – it was a pressure, swelling in him like a fireball, as the edges of his vision paled to blue, as a feeling grew within him like a storm in his belly.  He wouldn’t wait any longer.  “Please…” Simon said, and energy flowed through him like it did when he cast one of his more powerful spells, even though he had envisioned no spellform, had no magic in mind.  Instead, it was as if his very blood had flared to life, and he felt energy surging and crashing within himself, his turbulent determination manifesting and flexing within his body.  Fueled by his emotions, his will spoke in the only way it knew how. “…move.”

     And the entire tavern fell silent.

     Both of the servants blinked in unison, shocked into stillness, their bickering conversation falling away.  Simon didn’t look away from them, but at the periphery of his vision he could see that John had also turned to stare at him, one eyebrow arched.  Simon felt a chill hand grip his own, and at his other side a furry paw pressed his other hand, and even in their touch he could feel mana roiling, his and theirs.  That was the only motion to be noticed, as behind him every monster in the bar had also frozen in place, and he felt every eye staring at him.

     But that didn’t matter right now.  Mary did.

     “Enough, Ida, Urey,” spoke a voice from beyond the darkness.  Somewhere in the shadows below, a pair of red eyes flared to life. “Let them pass.” And without another word, the two women parted to either side, curtseying with eyes cast to the floor, and left the stairs that descended into the basement open and waiting.

     Simon didn’t hesitate.  He thought he felt John’s hand reach for his shoulder, but he was already walking, and he could hear Gina and Sarah following behind him.  The wood of the stairs, old boards press-ganged into new service, creaked underfoot, and the scents of earth and dark-drunk air filled his lungs as he reached the bottom.  The space was more expansive than he had expected, though the sheer number of massive kegs offered a synthetic claustrophobia to the storeroom, aided by the single lantern that half-heartedly guarded against the shadows pressing in from the walls.  With that slinking darkness filling the space, Simon wasn’t able to locate Mary immediately.  The figure before him, with her white finery stained gold by the glow of the lantern, was obviously Mephis, though she had removed her ever-present wide-brimmed hat, revealing her face, which was heart-clenchingly beautiful, if a bit sinister in this light, and framed by coal-black horns and flowing hair the same color as her dress.  She stared back at Simon with an inscrutable expression, her red eyes narrowed slightly, but he met her gaze without flinching.

     As he walked closer, Simon detected motion among the barrels, and noted the presence of the lady’s bodyguard, the same martial artist who had accompanied Lyra Wulfe on her first visit to the tower.  Kama was watching him warily, but he put her swiftly from his mind – he was no threat to her ward, not when the only thing he could think of was Mary’s well-being.  He walked past the woman and approached Mephis, his eyes combing the shadows of the basement for any sign of Mary, but he found nothing.  That only left one place, the ground just beyond the spot Mephis guarded with her own body, but her ivory skirt was wide enough to barricade his gaze.

    “Mister Hopkins,” the pale-skinned noblewoman began, the light of the lantern’s candle dancing in her crimson eyes, “it is good you came.  I am sorry to have made you to wait, but I had to be sure that she was ready-”

     “Is she okay?” Simon asked bluntly, his stance solid and tensed, his chin lifted enough that the orange glow gleamed from his glasses.  “Tell me that Mary is alright.”          

     Memphis’s smile grew, a sharp curve in the shadows. “More than alright, if you ask me.  Even better than before.” Her smile waned just as quickly as it had waxed. “But, in the end, I suppose that all depends on you.” Her head began to turn to glance behind her, but she paused, raising a hand, paled and ungloved, to demand his stillness for a moment more. “If she is ready…” Her head completed its swivel, and, after a moment, she nodded tightly before glancing back to Simon. “Then you can witness what she has become.” The words wrung at Simon’s heart, and he felt panic scratching at his ribs from the inside, but he forced himself to watch as the noblelady stepped to the side, into the shadows, to reveal the form sprawled upon the floor just beyond.

     It was Mary – Mary, whole and breathing, if pale – stretched out as if waking from a slumber.  To Simon’s immediate embarrassment, he noticed that she was barely dressed, wearing only her underclothes and thick stockings, as well as some sort of dark brown apron.  The rest of her barmaid’s outfit was spread out beneath her, protecting her unmarred skin from the stones beneath.  To Simon, there was something about the way she was laid out atop those clothes that felt inescapably erotic, as if she had been paused mid-seduction, despite the unfocused haze in her eyes- until she noticed him.  Immediately, her cream-pale cheeks darkened to red, and her hands slid down to reinforce her smallclothes in covering her near-nakedness, but that motion only managed to seal the inevitability of Simon’s eyes trailing down to see all that she inadequately shielded.  That flesh was deliciously plump, straining at the edges of her clothing in a way that heated his imagination in an instant – he envied the thin cloth that hugged her curves, as he too wanted to know how it would feel to press and grasp and taste that softness.  He had always been attracted to Mary, since he had first met her in Videre’s inn, but seeing her like this made him aware of a deeper, wordless lust within himself – no one else remained in the basement but him and her, and there was nothing more natural for them to do than to slake their primal needs on each other, fill each other to the brim-

     Those- those weren’t stockings.  They were hair- or fur.  Chalk-colored bone curled above her ears in nascent horns.  And, behind her, almost translucent and little more than living shadows in the torchlight, the skeletal shape of wings… the sinuous shape of a spade-tipped tail, draped over the tantalizing curve of her hip, and what he had taken for an apron, the color of her own brown hair, was more fur tapering down into her lower underwear…

     Behind her glasses, her brown eyes were reading him.  Waiting to see his reaction, fearing and despairing.  Time stopped, and for a moment, the man that he had been immediately recoiled, shaken by this change, by this undeniable proof that the world had changed, that there was no going back.  But he wasn’t that person anymore, and this was Mary.  And she was – just as she had always been – gorgeous.  She couldn’t read everything she found on his face, but the heat in his cheeks, the sloppy curve of his smile, and the way he met her eyes and didn’t look away – it was enough.  Enough, at last, to bring the first buddings of a smile to her lips.                         

     He inclined his head to her, sharing with her a gentle smile, but his expression was far less soft when he looked over to Mephis.  He didn’t speak, merely seizing her eyes with his own, and waiting.  The figure in ghostly white still wore her bold smile, but there was something in Simon’s eyes that drained her confidence, and she glanced to John for support.  She had chosen her ally poorly in this moment, judging from the way she instantly blanched, and Simon’s gaze flicked to the former warlock to find him standing next to Ceann, both of them wearing masks of tightly-reined fury. “Miss Kramer has become one of us,” Mephis declared needlessly, fighting to maintain her guise of regal superiority. “Tonight, we welcome-”

     “Mephis,” John breathed, and his voice thrummed with tight restraint like a bass note, “you knew that this was a bad idea.”

     Her chin tilted higher in defiance. “I disagree.  It was inevitable, and this was the best way…”

     Simon no longer cared to listen to this conversation.  It wasn’t his concern.  Instead, he stepped closer, and knelt down a short distance from the woman on the ground. “Mary,” he breathed quietly, as if afraid of spooking a small animal, “are you okay?”

     Still she stared at him, her eyes wide and damp, as if tears threatened to surge over the dam of her lower eyelid.  She trembled, perhaps the chill of the basement and her lack of clothes? – no, he knew better.  It was emotion raging within, energy so chaotic he could feel it even arm’s reach away from the furthest extent of her feet, a whirling need to flee or to charge.  It was a long moment before she nodded, lips tight as if she were afraid of what might escape should she part them. “I’m fine,” she said, and somehow her voice was huskier, more potent, sending a thrill racing laps up and down Simon’s spine.  She paused, dozens of emotions tugging at her face even as her eyes stayed nailed to his own. “Simon,” and she tensed, her body shifting, as if the word itself had been a teasing touch over her own flesh.  Still, doubt gnawed its way free from within. “This body… am I…?” He waited for her to finish, but she wouldn’t, as if to speak the idea would only increase the likelihood of it being true.  Her gaze leaned on his for support, and finally the word burst free. “Hideous?”

     Simon swallowed, the truth far too dense to speak freely.  Still, even as he fought to think of how to respond, he knew how much she was hanging on this judgment, and he could read the naked dread in her gaze.  It might take a moment to say it all, but one word would be easy, at the least. “No,” he replied, truthfully.  She waited, but as she did the clouds over her face began to clear, and he could see the light returning to her eyes. “Mary, you were beautiful.” Betrayed, she flinched back, hurt emerging for the second it took him to continue. “And you are beautiful now.  And… more, too.” Saying exactly what that ‘more’ was made for  a daunting challenge, especially since they were far from alone, but it was the simplest truth he could utter. “Don’t be afraid.  Just…” He paused, glancing to the floor and steeling himself, preparing for what could come of what he had to ask. “Did you decide to do this?  Or…?” It was his turn to feel fear’s talons sinking deep, and he stared into her brown eyes in a silent plea for honesty.

     She nodded, and the breath he let escape pulled all of the tension from him, to the point that he leaned forward as if wearied.  His smile to her now was far more honest, and the sight of it brought a twin onto her lips as well.  He reached a hand out to her, and she took it – sending a jolt racing through Simon’s body – as he helped her to her feet.

    The argument beside them still raged, and John’s raised voice echoed through the basement. “-should have talked about this first, Mephis.  Do this so carelessly further east, and you’ll have mobs with torches and pitchforks hunting us all down.  With what we have planned, with the goals we are supposed to share, the last thing any of us need is you acting like another Druella!”

     Naked fury flared on the typically-composed pale face of the woman across from him. “Don’t you dare compare me to her, or any of my sisters.  This wasn’t me being a radical, darling.  This was inevitable.  I merely gave her the chance to make the decision for herself.”

     “Maybe,” John admitted, his tone sharp and unrelenting. “But that would be a lot easier to believe if we had discussed it beforehand.  You can’t rush these things.”

     “Well forgive me if I didn’t have time to handle this via committee,” Mephis spat back. “We monsters don’t work that way.  We are creatures of passion and emotion, not… tiresome debating.”

     “She wasn’t a monster,” John riposted. “Not until you got involved.” He paused, and a wave of emotions clearly crashed into him, his words taking a moment to firm up enough to be spoken.  When he did continue, vulnerability was unmasked in the softness of his voice. “Mephis, you know how important this is to me.  How much I have to make things right this-” He glanced to the side, and saw Simon looking in his direction.  John’s jaw clicked shut, and he looked away as he sculpted composure back onto his expression. “If we want this to work, you can’t just go transforming every human woman,” he finished lamely.

     Mephis paused, seeing the shift in John’s expression, and her crimson eyes flicked over towards Simon.  Her expression also thawed, and she slowly shook her head, her voice regaining some of its previous soft musicality. “This is what she wanted, darling.  She was ready.  She wanted to be able to stand at Simon’s side, to go with him on his travels, and even with decades of training, she wouldn’t have had the mana to do so – not as a human.  But as a succubus, she will have power enough to be someone he can rely on.”

     John regarded her carefully, his anger smoothing like wet sand, but a third voice interjected. “And I suppose it has nothing to do with your own needs?” Both John and Mephis glanced over to the dullahan at John’s side.  Ceann was staring at the white-clad woman with cold, appraising eyes. “You’ve been lonely in the tower.  The maids are professionals, Kama doesn’t speak much, and John and I are often busy – you’ve needed a friend, someone you can talk to.”

     Mephis stepped back, affront painted in broad strokes across her features, but the tremble in her voice hinted that the knight had scored a point on her. “How absurd!  I’m sure she’ll be quite busy adventuring-”

     “After she’s been trained,” Ceann cut in, “and the best one to instruct a lesser succubus in magic would have to be you.  But that will still take years.” Mephis didn’t manage to reply in more than spluttered denials, and exhaustion quickly reclaimed its foothold on John’s face.

     A smooth motion at Simon’s side drew his attention away from the bickering, and he watched as Gina walked past him towards Mary, whose eyes grew at the kobold’s approach.  To Simon’s alarm, the expression Gina wore was utterly alien to him – a cold, haughty frown, her cheeks taut in the precursor to a snarl, her eyes narrowed and locked onto the mostly-naked girl before her.  Gina walked without hesitation until she stood immediately in front of Mary, almost chest to chest, her eyes unblinking as she grasped the other woman with her stare.

     Mary gaped at Gina for just a moment, before glancing to the side.  Simon followed her gaze to see that she was looking to Mephis, who nodded solemnly.  Mary swallowed nervously, her eyes still to the side as Gina stared unrelentingly at her, but she collected her breath and closed her eyes, mustering her confidence.  Simon started forward to intervene, but a chill hand gripped his wrist, and he glanced over to see Sarah at his side, her head shaking minutely.  Trapped between concern and trust, Simon could only look back to the two women standing face-to-face, fighting to understand what was about to happen.

     As Simon watched, Mary opened her eyes once more.  She looked in the direction of Gina, but did not meet the kobold’s gaze.  Instead, Mary looked just to the side of Gina’s face, and leaned closer to the kobold as the nascent succubus lowered her head, angling it to the side.  Simon could only blink in wonder as he watched Mary’s lips part, and she leaned until her mouth was near Gina’s face.  Her pink tongue emerged, and she lapped softly and slowly at the kobold’s chin as Gina stood stone-still, not reacting as the other woman gently bathed the edge of her jaw with small touches of her tongue.

     Utterly lost, Simon looked over to Sarah, who was grinning.  The lich met his gaze, and nodded contentedly. “It’s an act of submission,” she whispered, looking back to the pair with obvious approval. “Gina tested her to see if Mary meant to challenge her – succubi are powerful creatures, and a threat to any pack’s status quo.  But what Mary did was basically a request to become part of the pack, not to take it over – Lady Mephis must have taught her that.” As if to confirm what Sarah had said, Gina dropped her rigid stance.  In an instant, a broad grin displayed her teeth, and she threw her arms open wide.  Mary had only a moment to blink before Gina lunged, wrapping her up in a tight hug and nuzzling her from side to side.  Still, over the kobold’s shoulder, Simon could see surprise give way to relief on Mary’s face, and heavy tears rolled down her cheeks as she returned Gina’s embrace with just as much enthusiasm. “Things are going to get hectic for us all, especially for the next bit,” Sarah mused, stepping past Simon to approach the pair herself.  She glanced back to him with a devious grin. “I hope you’re ready.”

     “Ready for what?” he asked, his jaw dropping, but Sarah didn’t answer.  Instead, she walked up to the embracing girls.  Mary and Gina broke from their hug for long enough to greet the lich, and after a quiet word Sarah too got swept up into the growing tangle of limbs, all three girls laughing and smiling as if a dam had burst and let all tension and sadness drain out from them.  Despite an expanding panic deep within his gut, Simon couldn’t help but grin as well, seeing the girls he cared about the most acting so happy together.  Still, that moment alone left him to deal with a new comprehension that was gradually blossoming from the seed of an old suspicion, and his mind struggled to accept it as truth.

     There was one more figure in the basement who had merely observed all that had occurred, and now he stepped closer to Simon.  He still waited his turn patiently, but when the shorter man noticed him, the broad-shouldered barkeep shook his head slowly with a quiet chuckle. “I’d wondered if she would change,” Charles Kramer said, in almost a whisper. “I’d heard things happen to women who live near monsters, but…” There was a kind of sadness crinkling the corners of his eyes, but within his bristly beard Simon could see the faint curl of a smile. “I suppose it’s a kind of growing up, if that makes sense.  She wouldn’t have been happy, just wiping tables and carrying beers – and neither would I, at her age.  That’s what led me to the mercenary life.  She’ll want to see the world like I did.  And if this is what she chose, then…” Those expansive shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug. “I’ll not do anything to stand in her way.” He took a step forward, seeing that the girls’ conversation was slowing, but he gave Simon a final, meaningful glance. “I suppose you have enough room in that big house of yours for her things.  We’ll need to speak about that, and a few other things, yeah?” There was a deeper rumble in the big man’s voice, and that was part of the reason Simon paled, nodding as he felt like the ground beneath his feet was crumbling.  With a dark grin, Charles nodded to Simon once more, and then stepped forward to speak to his daughter.

     Simon watched as Charles reached Mary, and the former barmaid turned to her father with caution similar to how she had regarded Simon.  He opened his arms to her, sweeping her up in a powerful hug, and from the crushing confines of his grasp Simon could hear her relieved laughter, her arms reaching only partway around her father’s sides, her face buried in his chest.  As the pair exchanged quiet words, the scarred man leaning down towards his transformed daughter with a gentle smile, Gina and Sarah approached Simon, still wearing grins but with chins tilted at a challenging angle. “With how upset the people were upstairs, we’ve decided to stick around for a while and talk to some of them, let them know everything is alright,” the lich explained, but Simon could see the half-truth of her words in the sharp angle of her grin. “We’ll hang around the Second Home for a few hours, maybe have some drinks… it’s been a long day.”

     “I completely agree,” Simon sighed, letting his upper body bend under the weight of his tiredness.  His own exhaustion came mostly from all that he had learned since his late awakening that morning, but even that had left him feeling wearied enough. “I’ll join you, then-” He fell silent as Gina rested a paw against his chest, shaking her head, though still wearing that devious grin. “Oh?”

     “Mary’s even more tired than we are,” Sarah pointed out diplomatically, and a chill danced over the skin of Simon’s upper arms. “She needs somewhere quiet to rest, and her room is connected to the tavern.  Instead, our house should serve well enough, don’t you think?” Mischief burned in her violet eyes, and Sarah stared at him without a hint of shame at the way she was toying with him.

     Gina, however, was less subtle.  She stepped closer to Simon, taking one of his hands in her paw. “She wants to be part of the pack.  She wants you,” she said, and Simon’s eyes grew at the blunt, rare speech from his kobold lover. “You like her.  We accept her.  Is this not okay?”

     Simon could feel his cheeks burning, but the intensity of Gina’s gaze didn’t let him shy away.  He stared into her amber eyes, and nodded slowly, admitting the truth despite himself, acknowledging finally where this had all been leading.  To his even greater surprise, Gina reached up to tousle his hair, petting him with an indulgent smile.  He accepted the affection, blushing as Sarah laughed at his discomfort. “I suppose that’s what you meant when you said that I was what was wrong with Mary earlier?” Simon asked, and both of his lovers chuckled, sharing an exasperated smile. “Well… I’ll take her home, then, and get her settled in…” The words, and implications, still managed to get stuck in his throat.

     Gina nodded, pulling him close to nuzzle against him, kissing him on the lips, and Sarah waited close at hand for her turn. “Just save some energy for when we get back, hmm?” the lich challenged him, before stepping in for her own turn at his lips.  He returned the kiss, the coolness of her mouth contrasting with the heat in his cheeks, and when she pulled away she reached up to trail her fingertips along the edge of his jaw as she offered him the comfort of her typical mocking smile. “You’ll need a lot of it.”

     A polite cough that sounded more like boulders grinding together brought Simon’s attention back to the direction of Charles Kramer. “If you don’t mind, lad, perhaps we can have our little discussion.  Mary is wanting to go upstairs and calm everyone down, so we can hang back.” The man clapped a meaty palm on Simon’s shoulder, and it felt heavy enough to crush him down to half his height.

     Something behind Charles, though, distracted Simon.  Mary was picking up her barmaid’s clothes from the floor, but her expression broadcast her distress even before she spoke up. “Umm… I don’t think these will fit anymore, and I don’t know how I can go in front of the tavern like…” She glanced down at her mostly-exposed flesh, particularly the areas that, while already bounteous, had grown even moreso in the past few hours. “I doubt any dress shops are still open, either.”

     Simon decided to choose action over deliberation.  He reached down to the edge of his long shirt, and pulled it upwards, stripping it off in a quick motion.  Taking care to pull the shirt rightside-out, he extended in Mary’s direction, stepping past her father. “Here, maybe this will…” He blushed, not wanting to think about how his clothes might fit onto the shorter girl, but she took it readily, blushing as she clutched it to her chest.  He watched as she started to pull it over her head, thinking for an instant that he noticed her pause to breathe in deeply as she lifted the shirt skyward past her face.  To his relief, it became apparent that the garment would suffice for the moment, even if its hem was shorter than he had expected it would be, revealing much of her smooth thighs.  The way the material was pulled taut in the chest was likely to blame, and Simon’s subconscious expectation that the clothing would provide him a chance to subdue his prowling lust was quickly put to a lie by the alluring sight of Mary in his shirt, and the way she trailed her fingers over the fabric while looking at him with shy gratitude, complete with a lowered face and upturned eyes.

     Charles’s chuckle wiped the sloppy grin from Simon’s face, and he turned back to see the hulking man rubbing his bald pate with one of his hands, a mirthful curl of his lips suggesting he had read Simon’s reaction plainly. “Well, between this, and that little display upstairs to those maids, I feel a bit better about leaving her in your hands.  Still, let me ask you plain: if there’s talk of her going with you into danger, can I trust you with her?  Will you protect my girl?”

     Simon met the larger man’s gravity with an unyielding stare. “With my life,” Simon declared, and Charles nodded in approval.

     “Then do me a favor, lad.  Protect her happiness, too, with just as much strength.  I think I can trust you – I’ve thought that since the day I met you, in those stables – so don’t let me down.” He clapped Simon on the shoulder again, and though it was with as much weight as before, Simon bore it without flinching, still showing the older man his resolve.  That drew an approving smile from Charles, and he stepped away, turning towards the stairs leading towards the bar above, following in the wake of his daughter and her two friends.

     Simon turned to glance at John, who was still speaking to Mephis and Ceann not far away.  The former Hero nodded to him with a smile, and Simon returned the expression, pleased that things had ended this way.  He had feared the worst, and wasn’t certain what would have happened if he had instead learned that Mary had been changed against her will, but he could hold no ill will against Mephis for helping Mary to achieve what she wanted for herself.  The woman in question noticed the direction John was looking, and turned as well to face Simon. “I must say,” she began, looking Simon over with clear appraisal, “I had not expected such a display of mana from one so recently come into his own power.”

     Simon frowned, and glanced to John for clarification.  The other man nodded, motioning up the stairs. “We call what you did up there “waking” your mana.  It is merely a way of… well, for lack of a better way of describing it, it’s showing off.  The equivalent of flexing your bicep: it displays a measure of your strength without actual application.  It tends to happen when mages get riled up, or they may choose to do it when trying to intimidate opponents.  But, any trained in the arcane arts, as well as those sensitive to mana like monsters, get a glimpse at how much mana you could bring to bear.” He paused, stepping closer, a frown furrowing his brow. “Simon, your mana is growing prodigiously.  That’s common for heroes, who tend to have much more mana than regular people, and we Godchosen take that even further.  But I worry a little; the easiest way to improve your mana is through utilizing it, much in the same way that you build muscle through work.  For you to be improving as much as you have tells me that you are pushing yourself, maybe even too hard.  Constant exhaustion takes a toll, eventually.”

     Simon nodded, considering John’s words.  Between his studies of arcane arts, given free fertilizer in the form of the spellbooks he had easier access to here in New Haven, and his attempts at learning to heal from the prayerbook, he had been burying himself in his tomes as much as he had been able to manage since arriving in this place.  Considering he had spent years struggling to learn even basic zeal-based magic during his time with the Orders, the allure of easier success with the arcane had motivated him to throw himself into his self-improvement; that, and his desire to be ready the next time he would be faced with a situation like the battle against Themras.  Still, he had to acknowledge John’s point, as he would be no good no matter how much he had learned if he was completely spent before the battle even started.  

     “Remember, though, that there is another way to achieve the same effect,” suggested the insinuating purr of Mephis’s voice. “Intimate mana exchange still fosters growth by expending your reserves, while also bolstering you with the mana of your partners.” Her smile was almost giddy, brushing aside her usual restrained image. “Indulge to your heart’s content, and you will-”

     “End up physically exhausted, instead,” interrupted Ceann, and Mephis slumped at John’s side, her crimson eyes rolling in disdain.  Still, the knight nodded to Simon. “Although, succubi have ways of mitigating that, as I expect you will learn soon enough.”

     Chuckling at the color in Simon’s cheeks, John nodded to his friend. “With all of that in mind… take the day off tomorrow.  Leave matters at the tower to us.  You’ll need plenty of time in bed – to recover, of course.” His smile, teasing and light-hearted as it was, reminded Simon of something he felt he had seen long ago – the portrait of the Seven Heroes, perhaps, or maybe something else.  Still, he joined in with the trio’s quiet laughter, and soon followed them out of the darkness of the basement and into the light and noise of the Second Home.

 

******

 

    The streets of New Haven had gone almost still by the time they arrived back at the house that Simon shared with the girls.  Though the sun hadn’t fully sunk into the western mountains just yet, it was all but spent, releasing its last crimson eddies of light as it relaxed into slumber.  Likewise, the monsters and men of the town were making their way home, shops closed and construction sites going quiet as everyone made for their dinners or their beds.  Even with the anemic flow of passersby, Simon and Mary still felt like every eye was glued to them, and so it was a relief when they arrived at his familiar threshold.   

     “So, here we are,” Simon said, needlessly.  He fumbled with the key to his door, the shadows of the deepening evening making it hard for him to smoothly insert it into lock, though he admitted to himself he had other reasons for being a tad uncoordinated.  Mary clutched to his arm, as she had done the entire walk from the Second Home to his house, unwilling to be parted from him for even a moment.  Her proximity was more than a minor distraction, especially the softness that was pressed against his bared upper arm, but he finally managed to slide the key home, opening the door to his home for its newest resident.

     “So, this is, ah…” Simon stammered, beginning to offer her a tour of the home before he remembered the absurdity of that idea.  Mary had visited them here before, had shared dinner with himself and the other girls, and so it was pointless to give her any sort of introduction to the house.  Perhaps that was for the best, because his tongue felt thick in his mouth, and he doubted he could string three coherent words together in a row without verbally stumbling.  Instead, he offered Mary a broad smile, and she stared at him, her cheeks alight in the deep red glow of the sunset. “Come on in,” Simon offered, and she did – once he walked inside, her body still attached to his arm as if letting go would reset all that had happened in the past hour.

     Simon’s heart hammered at his ribs, as it had done since he had emerged from the basement of the tavern.  That had been a particularly embarrassing moment, as the entire tavern had roared a cheer and begun clapping, many of the monster women shouting lewd suggestions that, despite his growing experience with his two lovers, had sounded to Simon outlandish and potentially anatomically impossible.  Seeing the two of them together had brought good humor back to the bar, and Charles Kramer had soon found himself swamped with shouted orders – no doubt he had already been forced to return to that basement, just to bring up more casks to sate the thirsts of New Haven.

     Mary and Simon had soon made their escape, waving farewell to their friends and slipping into the shadows to escape the affectionate catcalls of the crowd.  Surely that had been the reason for their haste, and not thoughts of their eventual destination – though they had hustled down the streets of the quieting town, as if still pursued by the leering eyes of the inebriated masses.  Now, though, their progress was more halting, as proximity to their goal brought to mind what would happen when they reached it.

     “Would you, ah, like something to eat, or drink?” Simon stammered, and immediately Mary shook her head, her long brown braid swaying with the motion. “A bath, then?” Simon suggested, thinking of her time on the floor of the cellar, only to be met with the same emphatic response. “Or…” At this, his malfunctioning mind gave up the ghost, and he could only stand in place and panic. 

     “I’m pretty tired,” Mary said, her voice low and cautious, her eyes looking up at him, and he restrained the shiver that tried to sprint up his spine.  Of course she would be tired, after all she had been through.  He glanced into the living area, to the couch where he had sat with Sarah not long before, but a glance downward at Mary’s slightly discontented pout eliminated that option.  Simon swallowed as he felt her fingertips softly sliding up and down his arm, forcing himself to acknowledge that fighting his own desires would be fruitless, at least when she wanted the same thing at least as much as he did.

     “Well, then, the best thing would be to go to bed,” he managed, croaking a bit as he kept his gaze firmly locked on the stairs leading upstairs into darkness.  The pressure on his arm tightened, and though he was one in front, he still felt as if Mary was guiding him in that direction, or at least hastening his steps.  In the blink of an eye, they found themselves in the bedroom he shared with Sarah and Gina – and, now, Mary, he thought with the fanfare of a drumming heart.  She glanced around the room, but her eyes were drawn back by inexorable gravity to his face.  Without words, she reached down for the bottom of his shirt that she still wore, and began to pull it upwards.  And, no matter how tightly he clutched to propriety and restraint – he watched, drinking in the sight of her pale skin in the moonlight that streamed from the window, gasping in a breath strained by need, by the sudden impulse to touch every last bit of that skin just as the moonlight had done.

     The shirt fluttered onto a chair, and Mary stood there in her underclothes, looking at him expectantly.  Jolting back to awareness, he realized she was waiting for him to prepare as well, and his fumbling hands sank to his belt, working to shed his own outer layers.  She watched with just as much subtlety as he had, even when he noticed her gaze, and there was a smile at the corner of her lips.  When his undershirt finally landed in a heap – not far from where it had been this morning – he stood before her bared except for his smallclothes, just as close to nude as she, and met her gaze with all the resolve he could muster.  She nodded, once, and stepped close to the bed, and he did the same, pulling back the sheets so they could climb in.

     A moment passed, and they were both sealed into the bed by the raised covers, with all but their heads sharing the same isolated space, just half an arm’s span away.  But, having reached this last extent, they paused at the edge of the precipice, not ready just yet to dive in.  They were both, truth be told, afraid of doing so: afraid that the other would see just how much they had wanted this, how much they needed it, and that vulnerability kept them paradoxically apart. 

     Instead, they stared up at the ceiling above, details lost in the darkness, and listened to the house settling around them, the building rooting itself into its new reality just as they were about to do the same.  The sound of quiet breathing, the tense prospect of the slightest brushing touch, the seeping warmth from so nearby… it left them trembling, but still lost to how to continue.  The first step was the hardest, and it was all a sprint from there – but how to begin?

     “You know what this reminds me of?” Simon asked, chuckling.  Mary glanced over at him, seeing the moonlight gleam off of his glasses. “That night, back in your inn at Videre.  When we read together, and you and me and Gina shared a bed…” He paused, and the shimmer of silver light turned her way. “I… felt like this then, too.”

     Mary smiled, and the warmth she felt didn’t just come from the blanket. “Me too,” she confessed. “I… wanted this, then.  And ever since.” She laughed, and the sound was a delight to him. “I was nervous for more than one reason then, since my pa was downstairs, and I didn’t think I could hide things from him.  I worried too much about things.  About Gina.  About you, and what you would do, whether you would leave.” Taking a slow, deep breath, she let her face turn more towards his. “I knew I needed to act, to let you know what I wanted.  I just didn’t… know how.  Not until Lady Mephis helped me.”

     At that, Simon paused, and he glanced down at the blanket. “Do you… regret, anything?  I… if I had known, I would have accepted you… human or not.” He jumped a little when he felt a touch, feather-soft, against his cheek, and looked up to see her smiling at him.

     “I know.  But no, I don’t regret this.” She took a breath, weighing her feelings. “This… made it easier.  And what she said, about me wanting to go with you – that’s real.  I want to be helpful for you, and I want… to be in stories of my own, instead of just reading them, like I have since I was a little girl.” He nodded, knowing the feeling all too well. “But… being a monster gave me strength in more ways than one.” He felt her fingertips again, trailing over and down his cheek, and there was more than moonlight in her eyes as those teasing tips neared his lips. “As a human, I didn’t have the strength to muster up the courage to show you how I felt, to talk to Gina and Sarah about being part of your family.  But as a monster…” He shivered as one finger ghosted along his lower lip, and unconsciously opened his mouth to press harder against it. “I don’t have the strength to resist.”

     He looked at her, at the hunger in her deep brown eyes, and when she scooted closer he met her partway.  Her eyes widened when his arm slid over her shoulder, pulling her close – widened further when he leaned in and kissed her – closed as she sank into the bliss of that contact, as they vaulted over that first step and began their headlong dive into all that would come, all that they had desired.  In that touch, their fate was sealed, and there was no room for hesitation anymore.             

     Simon, who sought to think of himself as gentle and kind, wanted to take his time with Mary.  This was all new to her, and while he hadn’t long been used to the arts of love, Gina and Sarah had made up for that lack of time with ample opportunity.  She deserved a soft introduction into it all, a gradual warming so she could savor each first experience in turn.  He would have given that to her, if he’d been able to, if he’d had control.

     But she was a succubus, ‘lesser’ or not, and the fire burning in her heart had no patience for such gentleness.  Not when she could feel that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.  No, this was a moment to be devoured, because they had waited too long already.  Her tongue teased at his lips, and his slid into her mouth.  Her fingers grasped at his bare back, fingernails leaving not scratches but tingling lines of sensitivity, and his hand caressed forward, encouraged by the way she twisted to help him slide his fingers under the band of her breastwrap – not enough, that garment had to go.  Soon, she arced it away from the bed, and moaned aloud at the feeling of his fingers sinking into the soft skin of her breast, which proved to be firm and full but decidedly sensitive.  She smiled into his kiss, clearly able to sense that he liked that feeling an awful lot, not just from the way he massaged her, but from the pounding of his heart, the way he pressed closer to her – the electric feeling of something in the air, something powerful and delicious and very, very Simon.

     Mary spared him the trouble of fighting with the last bit of her garments, reaching down to pull her underclothes down over her thighs.  She struggled with one of the recent additions to her anatomy, as her spade-tipped tail got caught by the band of fabric, and as she struggled with it Simon took just a moment to gather his resolve before mirroring her action.  She glanced up to see him throwing the cloth away, and with a sound half-giggle and half-purr, she pounced as best she could horizontally, mashed her freshly-naked body against his.  The thrill of discovery left both of them gasping, a new sensation of completeness that they could spend hours and days ahead exploring, but now there was just the craving for more, more, more.

     Just as Mary seemed to be drowning in sensation, moaning and writhing at his every touch –  especially when he showed her what pleasing techniques his brief experience had taught him – Simon himself was struggling with his own control.  Whatever restraint he had previously intended was taxed with just holding the most primal urge at bay, the desire to roll her onto her back and take her immediately and vigorously.  Even as tired as he was, his whole body felt aflame, and her kisses and touches left tingling trails as she explored his skin.  Her own flesh tasted sweet somehow, potent like wine, and as he nuzzled and nibbled at her neck he could feel a current of something within her, something rich and burning hot, and he could feel it leaking into him, stroking and teasing its way along his veins and nerves.  When his lips found her nipple, she clutched his head and pressed him to it, and his tongue dancing wildly with it made her release full-throated cries that must have been audible in the streets beyond the window.

     Simon jerked as he felt something touch his own most sensitive extension, and he glanced up at Mary to see something dark flaring in her brown eyes. “No more holding back,” she said, begged, as her other hand combed through his hair, clutching to him desperately. “I want to feel everything with you – to touch and taste every bit of you – but we have…” She laughed, and he did too, giddy with possibilities. “We have forever, after tonight,” she promised. “But, right now?  I need this.”

     Simon stared into her eyes, and nodded.  He reached up to press against her shoulder, and she let him guide her back onto her back as he rose, taking his place between her legs.  As he did so, his hand brushed her thigh, and he glanced at the soft fur covering the skin there, noticing it more than the way Mary twitched and squirmed under his touch.  “Mephis said it’s part of the gradual transformation,” Mary explained breathlessly, her expansive chest heaving with passion. “It’s there to protect me.”

     “Protect you?” Simon asked, his finger stroking along it once more.  The hair was silk-soft and smooth, and his fingertips left little trails in it as he wandered down towards her knee, and then back up, not heeding the way Mary’s eyes went wide and she mewled softly under her breath.

     “From… sensitivity,” she gasped, and, blushing, Simon pulled his hand away.  Her eyes, aglow with purple energy, snared him as she reached up to grab his shoulders. “Don’t stop.  Go.”

     Simon nodded, and, taking the smallest sliver of a moment to ready himself, took himself in hand and oriented himself between her thighs.

     The moment he pressed himself into her was the moment he lost all control.  The feeling was truly overwhelming, and the thinking part of his mind was bathed in warm, wet ecstasy, a tightness that squeezed the rest of the world away.  He instinctively clenched inside, afraid of finishing almost at the moment he started, which he had never experienced before.  It wasn’t a fear of disappointing her that caused that rebellion – it was the fundamental need for more of this sensation, to drown himself in this pleasure until nothing else was left.  Barely gasping for breath above the sea of rapture, Simon had just enough presence of mind left to smile at the piercing joyous cry that came from deep within Mary, the acknowledgement that it was just as amazing for her as it was for him.

     The rutting animal that wore Simon’s form was not gentle.  He pushed his way deep into Mary, finding that she fit him, not like something foreign like a glove – but like his own skin, sensation and all.  The energy that passed between them carried more than power, but pleasure as well, and Simon began to lose understanding of the line between himself and Mary.  There were just her eyes, wide and awash in lustful triumph, and the reflection of his own, just the same.  There were just their bodies, connected and commingled, a singular organ made for pleasure.  There was just this moment, and it lasted forever, an eternity that forgot any other option.

     But then it ended.  Simon thought it was he who finished first, but he realized soon he was wrong.  The feeling that consumed him wasn’t his own, came from that unnatural connection, and Mary clutched to him as if she were afraid she would break apart, her nails sinking into his back.  She was beyond screams, beyond even gasps, as her body tensed to diamond-rigidity – and then it came, a release that overwhelmed her entire world, and felt as though it melted her into drifting steam.  It was the sympathetic feeling of that which triggered Simon’s own release, and that was the moment he realized that it had been Mary to orgasm first – but even as his own mind faded into bliss, he could see in her eyes that she, too, felt the same connection, and their pleasure was doubled both ways.  The feeling lasted much longer than it had any right to, and when it was over Simon collapsed onto Mary, barely able to breathe, barely able to think, and she stared up at the ceiling with the same vacuous completion.

     It took Simon several attempts to muster the strength to roll himself off of Mary, and she grumbled wordlessly as he did so, missing the feeling of his body despite the weight.  He scooted closer to her side, and she lifted her head to let him slide his arm under her neck, rolling onto her side to press herself against him.  Comfort achieved, they lay in silent stillness for a time, both of them hazing in and out of awareness of anything but their contact.  Eventually, Simon gained the presence of mind to wonder where his glasses had ended up, and when exactly they had come off, and for that matter how the same had happened to Mary – it was all a blur, though a decidedly pleasant one.  Accepting that it didn’t matter, he tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer, and with a contented sigh she nuzzled her face against his shoulder, her hand beginning to idly trace curlicues onto his chest. 

     “So,” she began in a voice little more than a sigh, “is it always like that?” Her brown eyes sought his, and he could see a hint of mischief growing amidst the satisfaction.

     “No.  Not really,” he admitted, “but it’s still pretty great.” Her reply was wordless, a cat’s grin as she snuggled against him contentedly. “I can see why Sarah said that succubi are a big deal.”

     She didn’t respond to that immediately, still wearing her smile, but he noticed that her tracing finger was meandering lower and lower with each loop.  He let out a laugh at that, favoring her with a grin of his own. “Give me a few minutes to recover, and we can try something different, okay?”

     She looked up at him, and one of her eyebrows arched in an impish challenge.  He tensed as her fingers looped extra long, trailing down towards his spent member.  She captured his eyes with her own, but down below he felt a heat seeping into his over-sensitive flesh, a simmering energy that made him groan.  He blinked as he felt his lower self twitching, waking itself back to full vigor with astounding haste. “That’s… a neat trick,” Simon admitted, glancing down to see that he had been restored to full rigidity, and deep inside he could feel his desires quickly stirring from their brief slumber.

     “I have a lot of tricks to show you,” Mary purred, and she bit her lower lip as she drew closer to his face, hungry for more of his kisses, his touches.  She would not be quickly sated, no matter how much he gave her, and yet he did so with enthusiasm.  She wasn’t the only one with more tricks to unveil, and thus their mutual education continued for hours.  It continued even when Sarah and Gina arrived, deep in their cups and eager to join in, and together they all found that they had much to learn, much to teach.  It continued into the morning, interrupted by quick dozes that fell prey to wakening touches and kisses, a cycle of passion, release, and recovery that paid no mind to the return of the morning sunlight.  It continued up until nearly noon, when finally they all lapsed into a deep, dreamless sleep, all four of them entangled and exhausted and satisfied.

     It only really ended when Simon was woken by the shrieking and flashing coming from the crystal he had left in the pocket of his swiftly-discarded pants, the shard that was bound to the one he had given George, as the leycrystal shouted its alarm that its twin had been destroyed. 

Continued in “Heroes, Chapter 13”

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Author’s Note: I return, and on time!  It seems my hopes for my new class schedule came true, as I essentially have two periods where I have a bit of freedom to write.  I aim to keep things rolling with this story, since after the next two George-focused chapters we begin the final arc of this story, the climatic action that has been approaching in the background since the first chapter.  Wish me luck with sticking to that timetable!

As for this chapter, I know Mary got a lot of focus, but it seemed fair since her part in the story is a rare opportunity for me to explore the ‘monsterization’ aspect of the setting.  I had decided the succubus route for her early in the development of Wisdom in Shadow, since her name comes from Meridiana, a succubus who was said to have had a relationship with a priest (her last name comes from the author of the Malleus Maleficarum).  Mary’s going to be busy with her studies for a bit of time to come, but she’ll have plenty of opportunities to strut her stuff later, especially when Simon gets the opportunity to travel away from New Haven.  After all, she has a second transformation to look forward to, far down the road…

I’ll not ramble overmuch this time, especially since this was a longer chapter and I’d prefer feedback on the work itself.  I hope this chapter was satisfying enough pay-off for the plot that had developed over three of Simon’s chapters, and please look forward to returning to George’s plight on the mountain.  Thank you all for reading, and I will return, hopefully in two weeks, with more of this tale to share.

You know, with an extra planning period, I can even steal a few winks here and there, catch up on my… sleep…

~Wynn Pendragon          

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