October

October
by LoLL

Story Notes

Author Contact: loll4000 (at) gmail (dot) com

Beta: marchwarden23

Series: Wraeththu (AU, sort of)

Pairing: Panthera/Caeru

Rating: NC17

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Wraeththu Universe and its characters belong to Storm Constantine.

Inspiration:
– Autumn, my favourite season
– U2’s struggling “October”
– Peter Greenaway’s movie “The Pillow’s Book”
– Edgar Allan Poe’s beautiful poem “Annabel Lee”

October

October
And the trees are stripped bare
Of all they wear
What do I care

October
And kingdoms rise
And kingdoms fall
But you go on

And on

U2 – October 1981

He had never belonged there. Never. Not when Cal was just a ghost hanging over his heads, even less now that he was back in all his flamboyant and carnal essence, throwing tantrums and whispering alluring images of a perfect threesome.

Not that he had ever fed himself some sort of illusion, but it had been nice, at the beginning.
But now, now that Pell had accepted to host Cal’s pearl, they had cut him out. Completely.
So he had begun to travel. Representation trips, they called it. Keep Rue away, he had secretly renamed them, but yet, he had obliged without a single complaint.

He was the Tigrina and nobody, especially his two so-called consorts, would have rejoiced at his discomfort.

In the last month he had visited more tribes and met more rulers than he thought possible: first Megalithica, with a brief stop in Galhea, then around to the Kakkahaar’s camps and then back to Jaddayoth, visiting the Natawni, the Kamagrian of Roselane, the Emunah’s markets, the Maudrah and his Archon, the Gimrah and now, the Ferike.

Compared to some utterly uncivilized and rough tribes, the Ferike and, in specific, their leader Ferminfex Jael and his enchanting consort Lahela were a regenerating and refined company. So he decided to extend his stay for a little longer, enjoying the relaxing ambience of the palace, the music, the art and the good wine.

It was the incoming of autumn, not his favourite season at all. He loved the sun, the warmth and the scent of the sea. Summers in Ferilithia where cherished and valued memories he still clung to desperately, especially during some bad days.

But this first October’s sunset was breathtaking. From the huge window facing the garden he could see the explosion of reds, infinite reds, dark like a stormy sky or bright like droplets of fresh blood, stained in yellow, or green, or orange, or purple. Hundreds and hundreds of leaves dancing all around in the orange light of the twilight, carried by the wind, tore apart from the trees that only few days ago had nourished them in proud luxuriance.

A sudden wave of melancholy enveloped him like a possessive embrace. Longing…and not just of summer in Ferilithia.

And suddenly he was crying. Not a dignified silent weep, but shattering sobs, that made him hiccup and cough.

It was in this pitiful state that Panthera, Ferminfex and Lahela’s son, found him.

“Missing home already?” he asked, throwing himself over a sofa just in front of him.

Rue shook his head, sniffing hard, and wiped his puffy eyes, hoping that the ground would open under his feet, swallowing him away from the irreverent and persistent stare of the young Ferike.

“No, it’s just…” He opened his arm and moved it, embracing the landscape behind the window, as if that explained everything.

The puzzled expression in Panthera’s eyes told him that, probably, the Ferike thought him insane, at best.

“They don’t deserve you.” Muttered the black haired har, and then “May I paint you?”

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Fire and Ice

Fire and Ice
by LoLL

Story Notes

Author Contact: loll4000 (at) gmail (dot) com

Title: Fire&Ice

Beta: ts5000 and tolliel

Pairing: Ashmael/Vaysh

Rating: from Pg13 to NC17

Summary: Ashmael and Vaysh’s back story (Ashmael POV)

Chapters: 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Wraeththu Universe and its characters belong to Storm Constantine. Except Jay who belongs just to Jay.

Thanks to: Jay who graciously agreed to play a delightful cameo; to marchwarden23, you know why ;-), to all the people reading this story.

Note: You can consider The Pan Within as a sort of sequel of this story

Fire & Ice

Part I

I had been observing him for three days now. My orders were plain: wait and be sure that nobody else is in the house, than take him, and DO NOT TOUCH HIM. Thiede had been very clear about that.

As if I was vaguely interested! An eleven or twelve year old boy, all skin and bones, with waist long, chestnut hair that made him look like a girl. Why Thiede was so obsessed with him to the point he would send a whole contingent of hara, was still a mystery to me. But I was not inclined to discussing orders and even less to disobeying.

So, I waited patiently, hidden in my secluded spot on the hill to see if any other soul ghosted the house. But after three days of careful observation, I came to the conclusion that the boy was the only inhabitant.
At dawn on the forth day I descended the hill following a path which was well hidden from the house. A misty fog made everything surreal and evanescent, drenching clothes and hair, and once again I asked myself if all this effort was worth the prize.

The house was silent and dark, and I imagined the boy was still sleeping. I snuck inside and found myself in a huge kitchen. The kitchen was perfectly tidy and clean, with a scent of cooked food still lingering in the air. I sniffed, realizing that I was starving, then instinctively I moved my hand to the hunting knife at my side. There must have been someone else in the house, for the child couldn’t have done the cooking or cleaning.

I blinked. I was incepted a little over two years ago but some strong memories still cluttered at my mind. At twelve, the only things I had in mind was to hang out with my friends and listen to loud music. I was not a spoilt child but neither did I have to take care of household duties!

Beside, this house needed a huge staff of servants to keep it running. It was a very rich house full of very rich people.

With caution, I began my exploration. Heavy curtains forbade the first rays of light to enter, but I was used to moving in the dark and my over-developed senses helped me where my sight could not. After a while my eyes began to adjust to the dark and the house revealed herself in all her magnificence.

The rooms were wide, all well furnished, with marble floors, elaborate carpets and crystal chandeliers. The walls were decorated with tapestries and paintings.

A particular painting caught my attention: a family portrait of an incredibly beautiful Lady and a severe but handsome Lord. The Lady was holding a child and it didn’t take me long to recognize the sad child in the painting as being the same boy I was looking for. It was not a happy family: nobody was smiling.

Suddenly, a cold breeze hit me and I felt the hair at the base of my neck stand on end. I turned slowly, grasping my knife, ready to strike, and in the doorway I saw the boy of the painting. He was a still and ghostly image, with pale skin and dark circles under feverish amber eyes. I stared at the apparition and waited for it fade away, but then the ghost spoke.

“So finally you came. Why did you take so long?”

The voice was melodic, neither male nor female, the voice of an angel, I thought. My eyes rapidly scanned the room while my mind processed the boy’s words.

“Don’t worry, there is nobody here but me. And I have no intentions of going anywhere.”

There was a slight mocking in the way he spoke and it annoyed me. “Do you mean you live here alone?” I tried to keep my tone even, as if this was routine.

“Yes, don’t you already know? You have been spying on me for four days.”

The statement left me dumbfounded. The little shit was far smarter than I thought. Once again, I decided to ignore his question. It was me who was to make the interrogation, after all.

“Where are the others? Your parents?”

“My parents left for a business trip two months ago and never came back. And the servants ran away like foxes after the first raid on our neighbour’s home.”

“And they left you behind… alone?”

He shrugged. “I could have gone with them if I wished, but I didn’t.” The detached tone was disturbing. The boy seemed to lack all feelings. “Beside, I knew someone would come to fetch me sooner or later. I’m ready.”

“Do you mean… you won’t try to escape? Don’t you fear us?”

The boy shook his head vigorously and, for the first time, he looked like he truly was: a kid who thought he knew everything, but in reality knew nothing.

“So what exactly do you think I’m supposed to do with you?” I asked with amusement.

“You’ll take me to your boss.”

“To my… boss. Ok, and then?”

“And then he’ll make me become a Wraeththu!”

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The Snakes-Tamer

The Snakes-Tamer
by LoLL

Story Notes

Author: LoLL (loll4000 (at) gmail (dot) com)

Title: The Snakes-Tamer

Beta: ervinae (THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU)

Rating: NC17

Characters: Lianvis/Ulaume

Summary: Ulaume meets his fate

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Wraeththu Universe and its characters belong to Storm Constantine.

Spoliers: None, I think. This is just how I love to think things between those two have gone

Warning: Angst, a bit of violence, slight BDSM and, of course, aruna.

The Snakes-Tamer

I woke up in a room that was as cold and dark as a black pit. It took me a while to realize that my eyes were still closed . When I tried to open them, a jolt of pain radiated from my skull throughout my body. I tried to breath deeply for not retching. Slowly, my other senses began to register the surroundings while white flashes danced in front of me.

I was lying on a sandy floor, naked, and my hair was curling around my frame as to protect and keep me warm. But that was not enough; I was shivering and my teeth rattled, making a weird sound in the silence of the room. With a huge act of will I forced myself to remember, but my only memories were the beatings, and voices… Somebody was trading on me as if I was a piece of dead meat. And maybe I was indeed.

Again, I tried to open my eyes, carefully this time, and even if the pain was still there, raging behind the eyelids, I began to see something blurred. It seemed to be a tent I was inside, a small canopy. Between the thin fissures of my swollen eyes I could see the end of my legs: they were roped by ankles to a peg in the ground, like a dog. But what really caught my attention was a half broken cup in front of me. I sensed water and suddenly my throat burned. Ignoring the ache, I extended my hand, panting and wailing like a broken puppy, and managed to drag the cup to my split lips. Half of the water washed on the floor but I drunk avidly what was left, only to throw it up a moment later. I lay still, panting hard and felt tears burning my cheeks. If I had to die, I hoped it would be soon.

In that moment the tent opened and a tall figure stood between the light and me. I could only see the outline and something waving behind his back, maybe a cloak.

“Very well, our new guest has finally woken up, it seems. Did you rest well, Ulaume?”
With a kick, the figure threw the cup away and I moaned in desperation.

“Do not worry, I’ll bring you more water, if you behave. And food. But you must prove you are worth the money I paid for you, or I’ll let you die of starvation.” The voice was calm and deep, cold like ice.

The tall har snapped his fingers and another figure entered the room. He was dressed in a long tunic and a scarf covered his head and face, leaving only his eyes visible. The new har knelt beside me and lifted my head gently. I moaned. I must have broken some ribs from the beatings. Every move stole my breath away.

“Hush…” whispered the new har, “do not move. This will help to lessen the pain and heal faster.”

The brew was tepid and smelled of rotten fruits, but I welcomed the little droplets the har let slip into my mouth like the most tasteful and refreshing juice.

“Slowly! Or you will retch again.”

It took me an eternity but I managed to drink it all and keep it in my stomach. When the last droplet was drained, I collapsed against my saviour’s body, trying to steal a little bit of warmth.

Another snap and the har laid me back on the dusted soil and disappeared out of the tent.

I wanted to talk. I wanted to know what had happened, why I was there and who they were, but the words only rasped on the back of my throat and didn’t come out.

The tall har knelt beside me. It was too dark to distinguish his features but his eyes sparkled like two opalescent pearls, a strange nuance of pale blue that seemed almost white.

“My name is Lianvis, and this is my tribe, the Kakkahaar. The reason why you are here should be obvious to you since you tried to kill your former master. A thought I warmly suggest you to never direct at me… or I will make you yearn for the punishment he gave you as a sweet reward. He sold you to me for my… experiments, but I’m curious to see what hides under that filth and blood. If I think you are worth the effort, I may even keep you and train you. Otherwise, well… we’ll find, for sure, a recreative use for that body of yours.”

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Will You Dance With Me?

Will You Dance With Me?
by LoLL

Introduction & Disclaimer

Title: Will You Dance With Me?
Chapters: 1/1
Spoilers: I suppose none, this is a sort of AU
Date Posted: April 2005

Author: LoLL
Contact: loll_3000@email.it, ladygaladriel.altervista.org
Beta and a big encouragement: Prudeness

Disclaimers: The whole Wraeththu Universe belongs to Storm Constantine, to whom goes my eternal and incommensurable gratitude for creating the Wraeththu and let us write about them.

Dedication: Tess, who lit the fire, Bookofnicodemus who gave me the courage, Nemesi because she is my Wraeththu’s soulmate (even though I know she won’t love the pairing) and, of course, to all Wraeththu worshippers.

Will You Dance With Me?

Nights in Galhea can be painfully long… long and cold. Especially when it snows, and the silence is so deep and suffocating it sometimes hurts. Tyson takes a deep drag from his umpteenth cigarette and when he puffs the smoke outside, his breath chills in the air. He tightens the fur coat around his shoulders and looks at the huge room across the windows’ glass.

Forever shines of lights and happiness, like a red ruby on an immaculate carpet. In the warm and glittering danceroom everybody seems to be having a good time. It is a joyous night, a night of celebration for the imminent birth of the Tigrons’ firstborn. Not him, the bastard son of Calanthe and Terzian, and not even Abrimel, the unwanted son of Pellaz and Caeru, and whom he has never met, but pities nonetheless.

This is the child of true love, or so he was told; the heir Pellaz is hosting from Calanthe’s seed.

With too much food and too much wine, they all seem to be in an exceptional high mood, forgetting for one night, their problems or their grudges, hiding sorrows and regrets behind fake smiles and flamboyant make-up. Even the icy cold Vaysh flirts gracefully while he dances with General Ashmael, while Rue ignores intentionally the two Tigrons. Panthera refills his glass for the third time in a few minutes, his hand never leaving the Tigrina’s waist.

“Mmmhh, the air smells of aruna tonight.” Tyson hums to himself. Cobweb can throw such a hell of a party. Tyson is about to light another cigarette when his eyes fall on a lonely figure. He is dressed in dark red and his raven hair descends like a protective curtain around a lovely and boyish face. There is something familiar in that countenance, but Ty is sure he has never met the har before. He’s younger than him, that’s for sure, and sports a look of total unease.

Who are you, my beautiful and mysterious guest?

In that very moment the har lifts his head and Ty meets the most sensual, beautiful, dark eyes he has never seen. And the most erotic lips someone can ever dream about. Tyson enters the room, bringing a rush of cold air and some snowflakes. In few steps he crosses the dance floor and stands in front of the mysterious har.

“We don’t know each other,” Tyson says, without realizing how much of his hostling there is in his stance. He extends his hand and the other har stands up and looks at him for a while with a puzzled and shy expression. A single wrinkle furrows an otherwise flawless bow. “My name is Tyson.” he goes on, hoping that his hand won’t hang in the air for too long. Luckily, the younger har raises his own and slides it in Ty’s larger one. It is an incredibly small and delicate hand, but everything in this har is small and delicate, though perfectly proportioned. If it wasn’t for those deep, liquid pools, Tyson would think he has not gone through feybraiha yet.

“Hello” the voice is low and a bit unsure. It reminds Ty of a velvet glove caressing his face, and he closes his eyes to better absorb the soothing sensation. “I… my name is Abrimel.”

Ty’s hand snaps away even before he can prevent the compulsive gesture, and when he opens his mouth to apologize he realizes it is too late: The pain and the hurt in the dark eyes is so alive and evident, Tyson has to restrain himself for not crushing that strange, haunted creature in his arm and beg his forgiveness.

“I—I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t apologize!” Abrimel says with a sudden hard tone. He raises his head and Tyson can see how the fierce stubbornness of his father and the proud determination of his hostling are perfectly blended in that furious stare. “I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anybody’s pity!”

Tyson shrugs. “I don’t pity you at all. I was just surprised to meet you for the first time in such a circumstance. We are sharing the same fate, after all.” He looks at the core of the room where his hostling and Abrimel’s father are dancing, completely unaware of the surrounding, so lost in their perfect love and in the radiant wait of the child that Pell is carrying.

“All that love… It makes me nauseous!” Tyson says with a snort. When he turns to Abrimel he is smiling, and something warm and liquid heats his belly. For a brief moment, he wonders if he is dreaming or something. “Will you dance with me?”

Abrimel stares at him for a while, and all the self-confidence disappears under the sudden blush that tinges his cheeks. He looks so young, so incredibly young that Ty wonders again if he has overcome his feybraiha.

When they reach the center of the dance floor the music has changed to a slow, sensual tune. Tyson takes Abrimel in his arms and senses the younger har’s tension. “Please, do not fear me, I could never hurt you.” Tyson murmurs into Abrimel’s temple and he realizes he means every single word.

Abrimel shivers while Tyson’s warm breath caresses his skin.”You smell of snow,” he says as he inhales the deep scent coming from Ty’s clothes. “Of snow and wood.”

“And you smell of dreams.” While he whispers the words, Tyson can’t help but brush his lips upon Abrimel’s eyelid. Abrimel is shaking now and Ty helps his head to rest over his shoulder, just above the heart, while the music envelopes them like a soft blanket.

They don’t even realize that the whole room is still. Every har is looking at them, some with amusement, some with delight, some with envy, some with fear. For a long moment they dance in silence, with eyes closed, swaying to a melody that is only in their heads. Abrimel’s lithe body is perfect and soft against Tyson’s stronger form. Tyson tightens the grip, a little, around Abrimel’s waist and shoulders and the other har seems to melt in his embrace.

So perfect, so true.

The smoke of a thousand candles and endless cigarettes make the air heavy, and Ty feels his eyes burning. When the music is over he looks at Abrimel, but his vision is blurred from a thin veil of tears. With an unsure hand, Abrimel caresses Tyson’s cheek. “Why are you weeping?” he asks with concern.

“I’m not… it’s…” Tyson realizes that it’s not for the smoke “Let’s go away from here.”

And without even taking a look around, they exit the room in the general astonishment, with Abrimel laced at Ty’s waist and Tyson’s arm closed protectively around Abrimel’s shoulders. The three Tigrons exchange a worried look while, at in a far corner of the room, Cobweb smiles quietly.

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The Pan Within

The Pan Within
by LoLL

Introduction & Disclaimer

Title: The Pan Within
Chapters: 1/1
Spoilers: Vaysh’s story in Book II of The Enchantments of Flesh and Spirit
Rating: NC17 for graphic sex and angst)
Date Posted: June 2005

Author: LoLL
Contact: loll_3000@email.it, ladygaladriel.altervista.org
Beta, Muse, Chesnari: Bookofnicodemus

Disclaimers: The whole Wraeththu Universe belongs to Storm Constantine, to whom goes my eternal and incommensurable gratitude for creating the Wraeththu and let us write about them.

Bookofnicodemus. Because we both love them and we both love happy endings. And because she is a genius.

The Pan Within

The Pan Within
(The Waterboys – Album: This is the Sea, 1985)

Come with me
on a journey beneath the skin
Come with me
on a journey under the skin
We will look together
for the Pan within
Close your eyes
breathe slow we’ll begin
Close your eyes
breathe slow and we will begin
To look together
for the Pan within
swing your hips
loose your head, and let it spin
Swing your hips
loose you head, and let it spin
And we will look together
for the Pan within
Close your eyes
breathe slow and we will begin
Close your eyes
breathe slow and we will begin
To look together
for the Pan within
Put your face in my window
breathe a night full of treasures
The wind is delicious
sweet and wild with the promise of pleasure
The stars are alive
an d nights like these
Were born to be
sanctified by you and me
Lovers, thieves, fools and pretenders
and all we gotta do is surrender
Come with me
on a journey under the skin
Come with me

on a journey under the skin
And we will look together
for the Pan within
When to be with you
is not a sin
When to be with you, oh just to be with you
is not a sin
We will look together
for the Pan within

Everything began with a journey. A journey to the South of Megalithica where we were sent as a small representative of the Tigrons. In fact, Pellaz was close to delivering his first pearl; both Calanthe and the Tigrina saw no reason for him to embark on such a long and tiring trip, and the otherlanes were out of the question due to his condition. Poor Pellaz, too much love can sometimes be such a burden to deal with…

Our guests were the Kakakhaar, a powerful nomadic tribe famous both for their obscure magical practices and for the deadly beauty of their leader’s consort: Ulaume har Colurastes.

But long gone were the times when the Kakakhaar, represented by their mighty leader, Lianvis, were seen with fear and hate. Quite the opposite: they were still feared by a few, but respected by many.

It was whispered that their knowledge and magic had contributed not a little to the increasing power and magnificence of Immanion. And to the conception of Pellaz’s son.

***

My companion and escort was General Ashmael Aldebaran.

Yes, “that” Ashmael Aldebaran; the har who once had been my chesnari, my soulmate, my lover, my love; the har who had seen me die, who had held me, and cried for me. And who, after many, many years, had found me again. But the Vaysh he had loved was now dead. No more laughter, no more rides under the rain, no more nights of passionate and joyful aruna. No more dreams.

No, the har he encountered almost casually in a hall of Phaonica was a ghost, with dyed red hair and a heart of glass. It seemed that all the emotions had slipped out of this inconsistent body. In fact I was barren: inside and outside, in body and soul. Thiede had “accidentally” burned me, and so for me there were no chances to create life.

So, for years, and years and years, Ashmael and I kept ignoring each other, as if nothing had ever happened.

Of course, we two, stubborn creatures forgot to consider that when Pellaz har Aralis, Calanthe har Aralis, and, worst of all, Caeru har Aralis had an idea in mind, nobody and nothing could stop them from reaching their goal. And General Ashmael and myself were actually at the top of their list.

I looked at their pathetic attempts to make us reconcile with amused detachment and a shadow of melancholy. Sure, during the years, we had slowly gotten accustomed to each other; we could even stay in the same room and chat amiably on the most varying subjects, with the small exception of one single topic: the past. We were courteous and polite to each other, but that was where things ended. And I had never had the thinnest illusion that they could go any further. Because a barren har is worth little more than a dead har.

So, when Pellaz enthusiastically announced this journey and, surprise surprise, the name of my companion, I just shook my head and braced myself to deal with a long, boring trip that neither me nor Ashmael were even slightly happy to undertake. We were even forbidden to travel the desert via the otherlanes with some excuse or another. We laughed together at the not-even-mysterious implication of this project.

***

What we didn’t know was that the desert can throw at you the most powerful of spells.

I think we both tried hard to resist, at the beginning, ignoring the whispering of the warm wind and the smell of the purple, strange flowers we encountered along our path. It was as if they entered under our skin, heating our blood, tingling our nerves, making our bodies alive and craving. It was easier during the day because we were surrounded by our escort and the burning sun made everything blurred and distant, even our thoughts; but at night, when the first breeze caressed the landscape, playing strange games with the sand, I laid myself down, as far as I could from Ashmael, and my body was hot with the need of a touch. I needed aruna so badly that I ended up pleasuring myself, stifling my moans against my hand. Some mornings I woke up with my face wet with tears.

I began to understand what sort of damnation feybraiha must be…

And things weren’t any better for Ash: I knew him too well not to notice that the dark circles under his eyes and the bad temper were not due to exhaustion from the journey.

I tried hard to dismiss all those strange feelings, blaming the heat and different climate, but it was with a big amount of relief that we reached the sumptuous Kakkahaar camp.

We couldn’t imagine that that was just the beginning.

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