Dappled light and the shadows of flitting birds and other woodland creatures danced across page, skin, and cloth alike. The drive had been far from grueling, a pleasant affair even for the stocky horse of the wagon who’d thus been well cared for and well directed with a wise hand. The merchant of the cart had taken up a traveler, happy to add the transportation fee to what wealth he hoped to weigh against the time spent in transit. It was something he’d done many times before, each occasion offering its own unique stories of winsome runaways, haggard adventurers, and so many more. Conversation was easy when the roads were long.

It was, normally, easy.

His passenger had barely spoke in the day and a half she’d rode in his wagon. She seemed healthy enough, tired, perhaps, around her otherwise terribly sharp eyes. She was sharp in many places in all honesty, though, not in the way of anything particularly fantastic. Her clothing was tidy, neat at all times and almost never ruffled in movement. Her mouth seemed perpetually set in a razor thin line. Her shoulder length hair was so black and straight-cut one could mistake it for a helmet were it not light enough to move softly with every little bump in the road.

When she rarely spoke, her voice was like expertly cut glass, cool, smooth, the edge of each word undeniably sharp and exact. He’d learned as much when they agreed to the transport, but he’d figured that was business. Surely a traveler as such would soften on a night’s sleep, or a shared meal. No such luck. She’d spent her time reading various books and papers she carried in a deep black grandfather suitcase, praying silently, and performing some sort of ritual with her long staff at regular intervals.

He’d known her to be a religious type when he’d first laid eyes on her, but she’d done no delivery of her beliefs unto him. She’d simply agreed to pay her way in holy water and traveled so unobtrusively one may have been tempted to call some of the cargo more chatty.

As they crested a hill, he glanced back at his passenger. In fairness, she had spoken a little here and there. There was nothing truly impolite about her conduct, she simply never began an exchange of her own design. She wasn’t nearly as intimidating at a glance, in stature, as her general demeanor led one to believe. It was his duty to inform her of her options as her driver and so he cleared his throat, and in a casual manner mentioned aloud “we’ll be passing Ulhie once the sun hangs above those trees.” He indicated the movement with his hand, communicating a time of about an hour.

“Yes,” The woman easily closed her book, regarding him with that sharp gaze. “I know now Ulhie is my destination.”

“Aye, and a time before that you weren’t so certain?”

“It came to me last night,” she said as she picked up her staff. “I am certain now. If it is not part of your journey I’ll depart on foot when comes our passing.”

“No need!” her driver balked at the thought of leaving her alone. “I’ll take ye to the town, no extra pay off your head or nothin’. I’d never leave a lady alone in these parts. Bandits I hear.”

“I have it on good authority the bandits of this region are of no concern.”

“Aye, and how’s that?”

“Poor leadership,” she answered simply.

Despite the time waning, he felt as though there was no more room for words between them after that. He drove the cart. She polished the metal fixture at the end of her staff, the one that seemed repeated in the motif of her other belongings that depicted a hollow circle with a round dot firmly in its center. He’d seen the woman trace the shape over herself on more than one occasion, but had failed to recognize its beleonging.

The weather stayed fair all the while, sunny clear sky giving way only to the gentlest of overcast cover as they neared the town. The location was nestled in dry forest off the main road, bearing all the hallmarks of a small settlement that made lifeblood off of travelers, adventurers, and location more than any other thing. Simple folk were said to be the ones that stuck, taking their time to nurse after long journeys or settle after long lives. Monsters barely touched these parts, or so the rumors went.

“You have my thanks,” the priestess imparted, leather boots hitting the dirt of the town entrance.

“Aye, luck be with you on your travels,” her driver offered a wave that he let fall as she circled around the front of the wagon.

“Stay true,” she nodded, austere expression betrayed by the gentle nature of her movements as she drew that circle upon herself in obvious prayer for him. In doing so, she was also subject to the rare nuzzling affection of the wagon horse. Her sharp expression never wavered even as she offered a firm hand along its muzzle in parting.

He was left behind, stock enriched with what holy water she’d promised.

She felt eyes on her as she made her way into town. It was a common feeling, but she wasn’t so ostentatious as she was foreign. The people here were used to travelers, and their gaze only lingered an extra touch to recognize her as a preistess. They lingered even less as she approached the town’s inn.

“Welcome to Rosepot! Rang out a hearty voice as her entrance to the rustic establishment clattered a bell along the door. “Looking to stay?”

She gave an assenting wave that let the source of her greeting know they would meet at the front desk once she was done serving other patrons. As she waited, she leaned on the fine wood, watching the woman work her way through various locals and the like, drinks in hand, foods offered here and there, all warm professional courtesy taking in the mix of sincere thankfulness, proffered tips, and occasional leering.

Never so deserved, but perhaps earned in the low cut of her blouse and shape of her dress. She was a busty woman, broad shouldered and thick all around with a deep caramel skin and equally rich earthy hair corralled in a tousled bun. In height and physicality, she seemed to dwarf some of those adventurers she served, though never so harshly or deliberately as to intimidate away their appreciative gazes.

“Thanks for waiting, honey,” she greeted once she was finally ready. “My name’s Lin, when did you get in?”

“This is my first stop,” she answered. “I’ll take whatever room is available.”

“You’ve got your pick,” Lin offered softly, her genuine smile only enhanced by her skillfully applied makeup. “It’s the slow season, these house rats are local. They stick by to drink.”

“You pour em’ better ‘an anyone momma!” one of the larger ones hollered at the overheard comment.

“Hush, you!” she snapped good naturedly. “Ladies are talkin’.”

“Where?” the men roared with laughter that quickly died upon each of them seeing the look on their joke’s face.

“Pay them no mind, honey.” Lin plunked the guestbook on the desk. “You’ve got charm in spades, I feel it,” she said, tapping her middle finger under her lips. “Name?”

“Ful,” she answered, quietly thrown off by the gesture. She knew it as a crass one, to be more at home among lowly talks than delivered by the upstanding wife of an innkeeper. Perhaps her time around such rough crowds had hardened her.

“Miss, Ful, you’ll have the nice room with a window all the way at the end of the upper hall,” Lin decided before probing further with a knowing glance. “Lady Ful, perhaps?”

“Ful. Know no title is necessary.”

“Really, none in your way of being?”

“None to burden another with,” Ful answered easily. “Though your measure of mine is correct. If it’s no trouble I’d prefer to pay you in holy water.”

“We’ve none to spare,” Lin offered another smile. “Your timing is perfect.”

The details were easily worried over till’ none remained. Ful felt obvious curiosity marking her steps, but none came forward to properly question her and she felt no burden to give untaken answers freely.

Lin gave her an easy escort to her room, touring her through the quaint establishment’s few amenities and promising a delivery of homemade food would be made at sundown before extricating herself. Apparently, her husband was away on a short trip at the moment, leaving her busy with all the work Ful had first witnessed on her arrival.

She took the time to rest and pray, having peeled her boots off to make comfortable space of the bed where she sat cross legged, eyes closed, communing. Light passed by in dimming overcast outside her window as she besought the powers that guide her, feeling warmth pool in her chest yet no overt direction beyond her location. T’was a concerning lack of clarity, though none so mystifying as some of her duties before. A nagging feeling stayed with her as she prayed, though, all throughout the time, and yet she couldn’t see the source, not the direction of it and was only snapped away from such things by a tapping at her door.

“It’s me, honey!”

Such time had passed in a blink.

“You’re following some sort of intelligence? Pardon pardon, your voice bled through the door. I promise non’ll hear it otherwise. You won’t hear less than a real scream through these walls.”

“Interora,” Ful corrected. “The high embodiment of Autonomy.”

“Sounds real nice, honey,” she was offered a well meaning look and a tray of fresh stew, bread, and a small selection of cheese. It was quality beyond what she’d expected. “Shall I make your bath?”

“Ah,” Ful held a hand up, but was summarily shushed.

“Allow me, would ya? We’re women here. Be comfortable and think of it as an apology for earlier.”

Lin had left the bucket with its magic stones just outside the door, and carried it through to the washroom as she spoke. The water was drawn, and she handled the count and containment of the things expertly even as she made her best conversation over her shoulder.

“What mission has you in town?”

“I go where I am needed,” Ful answered. “A vision led me here.”

“A vision, ey? Well our happy little town doesn’t see so many problems as all that, but the gods are fickle at times, no?”

“No.”

“Ah, well’d I be-- hey now,” Lin stopped, wiping her brow as she turned to see Ful in the same state as she had been, all else utterly untouched. “Can’t eat cheese, can you? Or is that not it? It’s alright. You can be comfortable.”

“I prefer to eat alone,” Ful answered, laying a hand over the food in question.

“Right then, your dress needs some extra hands I take it,” Lin offered.

“I can undress myself, thank you.”

“Shy little thing ain’t…” she paused, taking in the look on Ful’s face. She couldn’t feel that the harshness was for her, but it was still plenty harsh. “… you. You know I’ll let your time be yours than. I’m two doors down the hall if you need anything before sundown, honey. I mean it.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, madam.”

“Please no, none of those titles if you’ve got none either,” Lin shook her head, having pulled away from the now steaming bath. She’d pulled her hair down once done, revealing a far more wild mane that did nothing to diminish her size. Still, she remained nothing short of perfectly welcoming as she collected what was required to leave Ful to her privacy.

It seemed her makeup was sweating off her just the tiniest bit. Perhaps she’d made extra sure to heat the water properly, though it left none of her angles wanting save for the small reveal of what looked to be a birthmark upon her left brow.

Such details were far from Ful as she moved quickly to close and secure the door after Lin’s departure. Turning on her heel, she brushed an emerging hint of drool from her lips, movements growing hasty as she sloughed off her clothing. Her tabard came off first, leaving her to hastily undue the meticulous knots of traveling layers until they’d fallen off her form as little more than broad strips of fabric around her ankles. She was left in her undershirt and thick black tights that snaked up and down her slender legs and normally came to rest in her boots. With the rest of her clothing they always gave her a high cut look ‘round the thighs. She smartly unbuttoned her snug undershirt, undoing the tight cuffs moments after and shrugging the whole thing loose and off her shoulders. Next came away her under wrap, a far thinner and more breathable piece of fabric that protected her chest. Finally, she peeled her tights down and off each foot, leaving only her under pants, tight black utilitarian things to be swiftly worked down her legs right after.

The flat chastity cage worn over her small and near-always inconsequential cock was left untouched as she snatched the cheese left for her and nearly danced to the side of the hot bath. She eased herself onto the lip of the large tub and felt the heated water with an errant hand, a shiver of expectation running up and through her body even as she noticed the mirror. That was a rare thing to see, especially at a size greater than one’s head, but this was for capturing the bust, and at this distance, almost the whole of her slender frame.

She was nearly straight up and down, small rather than particularly short. Her legs were a little more plump while she sat, evidence of her travels that matched the pretty shape of her still not-too-impressive ass. In the fog of the mirror, the scars under her chest weren’t as distinctive as usual. The twin sickle half moons that had relieved her of any possible shape beyond a boyish flatness, and had each been cut halfway through with a small perpendicular scar under the nipple, heaved and stretched in the natural ways they’d long since healed to allow as she dragged the steamy air through her nose in large greedy sniffs.

It had been months since she’d had truly hot water. And the aching scream of her muscles as she finally settled into the tub chorused past her lips as an utterly undignified groan once her body melted to the heat.

Than came the cheese, unceremoniously stuffed in her eager, drooling mouth as more sounds of abject enjoyment escaped her. ‘Twas nice to let herself go to one of a rare few indulgences, and doubly rewarding that the quality of it was to be so decadent this time.

Her retirement to bed went much in the same way, having a chance to properly utilize her sleeping clothes was a stellar addition to the indulgences. The quality of the bedding was outstanding, as was her rest, though it alone would never erase the debt of soft shadows from her sharp eyes.

On the morn she was up and fully clothed, demeanor as razor as before, and thus left well enough alone by the clientele of the inn who seemed well and truly pushed to awkward bewilderment more than intimidation in her presence.

“Don’t mind them,” Lin gave her a heavy pat on the shoulder upon bringing her portion of breakfast around.

“Have they tabs to pay?” Ful asked as she accepted the food to be taken in private at another time.

“Just about the whole lousy lot of them,” Lin chuckled.

“A drink upon all of them,” Ful said, hearing a simultaneous stiffening and wave of whispers ripple through the crowd. “And those not present as well. They ought know ‘twas I when next they come.”

“Honey, the holy water—”

“I have coin as well.”

At that the adventurers and regulars broke tension, slowly raising from a bewildered clap to a raucous cheering of the “generous passing maiden,” as she was lauded about the dining area. She curtly raised a hand, waving herself to the most populace table where she made quite the striking addition as a slender shape among burly adventurers.

“Whats the occasion?” first asked a person so wide and rough from the lifestyle that they made no discernible impression that they possessed a countenance beyond it. “Gonna sell us on high powers?”

“I find myself dry of good tales and excitement,” Ful answered before picking one of the crowd with a curt gesture. “Saddle me thus with something altogether sordid?”

“They’ll talk your ear off with drink this early in the morn,” Lin warned carefully as she nonetheless delivered to the table.

“Aye, well, for a lady such as yerself I’d be thinking I’m a might bit—” the one she’d asked waffled on the spot, reflecting the renewed bewilderment of her crowd. How disappointing, that they’d hurl such talk about as they pleased, at her even, all until directly asked to let it spring fourth. Was she their mother than? Preposterous.

“I thank you,” she said, dumbfounding all as she took a flagon of drink from passing Lin, downed the whole of it in a single go, and loosed a mighty belch, her sharp countenance never faltering for a moment. “I would be entertained, now.”

Her show of abject vulgarity cracked the room open as a nut in a vice. The drink sat warm and otherwise pleasant within her as every adventurer took turns relating what sordid deeds they had under their belt. From the truly adventurous to the most debauched she listened to rough and tumble men women, and all alike tell her of hot beds, cool nights, scarred skin, waifish damsels, and even burly monsters. She took it all in, never offering so much as a nod or the occasional curious question that left the room howling in the sheer entertainment of a creature such as herself soliciting as she did. For so much of the day she was a fixture in the dining area, eventually, given to a corner where those willing would gather about her both to tell and to listen with no shortage of a rotating crowd courtesy of her earlier generosity.

She also felt the not unfamiliar heat of lust from a plenty of them. She understood of course, that the feeling was less concerned with her austere appearance than it was her open acceptance of any and all raunchy details. Not only were those around her competing to outdo one another, but her demeanor easily became a reflective wall upon which they found themselves accepted, encouraged, behungered. They excited themselves in her presence, and she let them continue on as it loosened their lips and caused them to dig and dig until finally a younger man by the name of Jace, who’d had no shortage of the more dashing tales, addressed her directly.

“Perhaps our curious lady would deign be subject among fresh tales of her interest. Surely, more than her ears burn at the words?” he entreated, happily allowing the crowd to push the statement forward with their own whooping and hollering at the thought. And of course they would, plenty of adventurers had already paired off and more over the course of her listening, requesting rooms and business from ever more surprised Lin to sate themselves. Ful was even sure there’d been more than a little fixing of belts and adjustment of buttons among those who’d kept to the dining area.

Still, none had touched her, and she’d yet to so much as blush. Unknown to her, such things were only part of her appeal among the throbbing crowd.

“On the contrary, your curious lady feels quite sated on offered feast,” she said as she stood, feeling the burning ropes of a dozen lustful eyes pulling at the simple movement. “She feels need only for fresh air.”

At a roaring proposal of a rough dozen different bodyguards, escorts, and accompaniments, some even as far fetched “security details,” she once more raised her hand. The simple motion cut the commotion down to none, and she was pleased to know she’d maintained the balance of power well.

“Current company puts me in just such a mood. I fear it would persist were I all but alone.”

That was the final say, and a quick parting douse of what she hoped was cold water upon the gathered throng. She’d never wish to leave Lin to deal with such riled up emotions from her patrons, but she had duties to attend.

To that end she made short and peaceful work of walking among the town proper. Having made her audience out of those whom had time to spare of the day, she’d easily split most the town into those that worked then and those that didn’t. More so, she’d left at about such a time that she was confident those that worked a hard day would be on their ways in from such jobs.

“Water, sir?” she offered a passing woodcutter, whom hefted his ax over his shoulder and carried a log roughly her size under the opposite arm.

“I cannae pay,” he shook his head with a conciliatory smile, intending to walk on by.

“None holy about it kind sir. A days work leaves the throat wanting is all,” she offered.

“I’ve not the time to go a stoop for it now have aye?” he hefted his things. “Me own are waitin’.”

“No purse,” she insisted, flitting the edges of cloth on her body in an easy commoner’s gesture she’d picked up.

“I dinnae know you.”

“A passing priest. I’ve an interest in blessing your work,” she indicated the log. “I’m fresh at it, so willing the practice would please the powers that guide me.”

“And you look pleased as pitch ‘bout it, aye?” he said, eyeing her eternally unchanging expression.

“My face is not the one working miracles, no.”

“Hah!”

He let her follow on to his home, what suspicions he had sloughing off his person and lightening his load with each word exchanged. He was known as “Chopin,” a woodworking family’s descriptor mangled from time and legacy into something resembling a name well enough. The same went for his family, a small daughter in the exact mold of a woodsman’s child, and a wife equally burly and far more blackened by her endless production and delivery of charcoal.

“Twice as long or more on such uniform quality,” was Ful’s estimate on the burning life of what charcoal she’d blessed.

Little Chopin had eagerly watched her work the miracle over the bags, and the grown ones had been appreciative of her water despite their gentle warnings to their little one of what invasive ideas Ful might have brought through the door.

“Not yer job to worrae on the world beyond growing big, hear us?” they’d cautioned her.

Not that Ful wished the spread of her ideology to the small one. It’d bring her nothing but ruin less she was the one to seek it herself.

“Shall I do your axe?” she asked after accepting an invitation of dinner and a round of stone faced play with the young one.

“I’d rather ye took an eye first,” was Chopin’s refusal, his words a greater joke than they could have ever been an insult. “Tell us what ye seek. You’ve been good enough now, surely.”

“If you know of any issues in the town, ones of even minor concern. I’d hear them,” Ful answered with a meaningful look at the fairer Chopin. “I’m here with purpose.”

“Gossip, aye?” the lady waved her husband off at the mere thought, sitting close and leaving the air among them to smell of her quality wears. “For a bird as small as yerself?”

“I can handle such sizes as might surprise you,” Ful said unshyly.

“Bed’s warm enough, maw!” the husband joked from the dishes he’d been banished too.

She stayed close regardless, taking care to touch Ful as much as possible without ever properly staining her in a truly impressive feat of feminine handling. She happily recounted numerous rumors as she went about such subtle touches and whatnot. The adventurers making work for themselves for extra pay, going so far as them being half bandit in the lot of them. The local monsters digging holes under the noses of all but herself. The blacksmith boy holding obvious fancies for the innkeeper’s wife.

“Popshyte,” her husband called on that one. “Leave the lad to ‘imself.”

“Fye I would iffin’ that axe of yours ever came back proper even once since the Innkeeper brought her ‘round to marry!”

“Is she foreign here?” Ful asked, politely interrupting the growing dispute and putting a damper on the eager little one’s obvious expectation of enjoying it.

“Aye, couldn’t tell it now beyond the accent, ‘alf the town’s lost it away all how.”

“Inn was bought up by ‘er husband ye’know,” the missus Chopin added. “Came home from adventurin’ one day with a score annae rough woman on the arm. Attacked or some such, he said. She cleaned up an’ they been lovebirds since.”

Ful listened her way through more rumors and such, but the time eventually came that her presence left lingering would tip over from being a kind and unexpected guest to being a burden upon a house ready to retire. She left them behind as the sun hung low, walking at a leisurely pace betrayed by her ever perfect posture and gait.

On the town’s road many a different adventurer and other patrons happily waved to her. Each one kept a distance, whether for shame having caught up to them, or weariness at her earlier comments of desiring as much solitude on her walk. Despite having said she needed in the moment, the air about town did actually end up most agreeable to her, having the heavy and fresh feeling of a place right before rain. The sky’s once deepening overcast had yet to bore down its water, and in fact had only split up over the day to allow what time the sun told by light through, all ‘till the night’s chill came to inevitably knit the clouds back up over the sky.

She was not away to bed just yet, however, as a direction asked here and there of the more respectable of acquaintances she’d made earlier finally delivered her to the doorstep of the local blacksmith.

“I cannae work on that,” he’d said in a far more faded accent than those local Chopins she’d just spent some odd hours deciphering. His eye had caught the glint off her staff the moment they’d been introduced at the front of his shop. He was a stout lad, smaller around in every detail than she’d expected from the sole blacksmith of a town such as this. His ginger hair and nervous eyes completed the look, though all seemed out of place in his shop. Perhaps he was simply the kind of person who struggled to stay kempt, even within the profession.

“Whyever not?” she asked, knowing the truthful answer full well but hoping to see more of him in whichever one he gave.

“It’s a godly implement, that. Tuned up proper from the looks of it. You need someone in the faith to do it right, lest you’ve made off with it and a whole set of fitting clothes besides.” He’d said it in jest, but left the way of it open nonetheless. Were she a thief she could walk out.

“It is mine,” Ful assured him.

“Aye, so what have you come for?” he asked, moving some materials and wiping the sweat on his brow.

“Am I intruding?”

“Naw, just late,” he assured her, obviously nervous by strange ways.

She took a moment to consider what was best. She’d been dancing around topics and possibilities all the day and night before, and now she finally felt that perhaps a way had opened. Though, she could feel the grains of sand running out the bottom of the boy’s nerves the longer she stayed. Perhaps it was a weakness of his in having learned to deal with such a different kind of client, or perhaps she’d ought to push and see how true such things could be.

“I’ve need of softer things than all this,” she said, hefting her staff. “I’m to be married soon.”

The poor boy choked where he stood and knocked nearly a dozen clattering items to the floor in his surprise. “Beg your pardon?”

“My love is of a kind nature and difficult timing, so I’ve taken it upon myself to make the option of such intentional eternity known myself. I desire a ring before my mind turns against my whims. How is your touch when it comes to the small and delicate decorations of the body?”

“Fine, me touch is fine ma’am,” he continued, so obviously flustered by the question his face was approaching his hair in color

“Are you nervous around women, young boy?”

“NO! No I… I love em’ I do,” he sputtered on the spot.

The conversation ran in circles for only so much more time as was needed for the young smith to claim nightly duties and expel her from his shop before anything concrete was required to come of her lie. Beyond his door, she took it upon herself to write up the location and room she was staying in “for further discussion,” and slip the page through the gap. This resulted in a loud slam from within, which she took in stride as she made her way back to such scrawled locations.

Within her room, resisting the immediate and powerful urge to fall upon this night’s cheese like an animal, she listened to the pleasantries Lin offered as she once more prepared her bath. Those of a nice night, and appreciations for the boon in business Ful had coincidentally orchestrated much earlier.

“Do you know the town blacksmith? Ful asked, having made no attempt to link her words to what Lin had said previously.

“In truth, I never see him without my husband around,” she answered conspiratorially. “The boy is vigorous, but oh so very shy. He seems greatly changed in recent years. Jumpy perhaps?”

“Does he fear some clientele?” She casually eyed the woman’s hands alongside the question. Nothing sparkled in the way of jewelry beyond the simple wedding band, as could be so typical of women working with their hands often.

“Oh no, he could never! He just flinches here and there, but he’s so very good and gentle with all his work. Nails especially.” She knocked on the wood of the room knowingly as she said it. Than she finished up her preparation, leaving the food and bath as she knew by now Ful wouldn’t partake in company.

Ful was happy for the privacy, once again melting away with good food and pleasant water. She let herself enjoy it to the fullest, knowing full well she wouldn’t manage to come across the opportunity so easily again. Small things were truly beginning to fall into place in her mind, yet the connections remained hazy enough. Being polite and inquisitive had likely taken her as far as possible, and so it was time to be invasive and more than a little bit odd.

She forwent her sleeping clothes upon exiting the bath, opting instead for her day clothes, leaving aside only her boots before holding herself tight against the wall of the room. A gentle knock rang hollow, and the nails were not recent.

She easily tapped her already soft feet each with the metal end of her staff, taking a stomp to test the noise suppression and finding it satisfactorily applied. The night was well underway, the Inn closed for all but those retiring to bed. There had been an increase in patrons, and so the rooms next to hers had filled. No noise save for a heavy snoring came from the one right beside, but with an ear to the door of the next one over she easily caught the sound of adventurers enjoying one another. Rather than leave them to it, she straightened herself up, fingered some of her already perfect hair into place, and harshly rapped her knuckles on the door.

“What are-- you?” she felt the roiling bewilderment coming off the flushed face of the husky lady that’d answered the door.

“Hello again, I am glad you remember me.”

“We’re sorry, the walls-- we, I, I was certain I was being qui—”

“That is fine,” Ful held up a hand to silence her. “I am a pervert and would like to watch,” she said, face unchanging.

The cracked open door was promptly slammed in her face, leaving her waiting patiently, picking some invisible lint from her clothing as the barest whisper of an intense conversation floated from under the door. Finally, the adventurer returned to once more crack the door open. Her eyes seemed to flash in disbelief when she found Ful patiently waiting.

“C-come in.” And so she did.

The room smelled of scented candles, evidently laid out for lighting, mood, and the courtesy of later cleaning. Though, Ful would have preferred the smells of sex to the cheap make of the wax. She couldn’t have been too picky all considered, she’d given them little time to prepare for what lusts she’d ‘caused and come now to renew.

The lady had a partner equally burly and rough as an adventurer ought to be, with scars among his nakedness in a wide variety of interesting places and a rather well crafted cock standing tall and affixed to his waist. He addressed her with quite a bit more scrutiny, tempering what excitement hung between them all.

“Shall I sit here?” Ful asked, politely gesturing to a comfortable enough chair against the wall.

Neither adventurer was making attempt to hide their nakedness once the door was closed. The lady was stunning in that thick around and heavy set way. She’d caught them in the middle of more involved relations than she’d realized by the glisten of things. Though, it was surprising that she’d been more able to move in answer to her knock than her partner.

“Your clothes,” the man nodded, defensively moving on the bed as he did.

She took his meaning. Odd as it was, all would have been easily explained if she simply planned to relieved them of their money whilst they were distracted. Thus, there were to be sacrifices for duty.

“You need only enjoy.” Her words wracked them each with a shiver, drawn even further into enraptured appreciation as she moved to disrobe without a moment’s hesitation nor even blush. Her movements were mechanical, efficient, and slow enough that her two horny admirers felt it was perhaps the best show of their lives.

By the time she was naked they were slack jawed. The lady was obviously weak in the knees, and her partner had wiped himself of drool a number of times.

“You should attend to one another,” Ful suggested, taking her place in the chair off to the side, resting her hands on her thighs in a perfect neutral posture that left the other two short of breath and their eyes wandering.

They assented in a storm of incoherence, meeting each other in a desperate kiss on the bed that quickly broke into heavy breathing among them as they shuffled and squirmed to the point where he could re-enter her eager pussy in a position that let them both watch their viewer.

Just the re-entry drew a husky sigh from her lips, leaving her breath to hitch at the end from the feeling of his strong hands on her side as he leaned forward, leaving kisses along her back as he slowly took her from behind. Their breath came short, slower love-making having turned into an event so deeply exciting they were quick to forget themselves. Their movements became frantic as she bit her lip, trying and ultimately failing to finally hold back those wanton moans he’d been able to pull out of her before she’d attempted to perform for company. His success only spurred his hips to move faster.

“Perhaps, you could give more attention to her chest?” Ful offered, breaking through all other sound in the room without ever raising her voice.

She arched her back and his fingers found her tits immediately. Each moaning in turn as they followed the suggestion and realizing how much pleasure there was to reap in the obedience.

“Yes! Oh, oh, yes!”

“Are we… doing good?”

“Hmm,” she neglected to answer, watching their pace grow all the more desperate from where she sat leaned against the wall. She tapped it, as if in thought.

It returned no noise at all.

“Please…”

“Face each other.” Her words caused them both to scramble, heated by the direction and not wishing to stop even as they followed her lead.

“Yes!”

She stood, taking slow, subtle steps. Peppering them with directions and feeling errant, desperate glances falling on her as she moved throughout the room.

“Kiss her neck as well.”

“Grab at his back.”

“You both must match the thrust of one another.”

Each direction brought their peak higher and higher, encompassed in that burning feeling such a spectator was willing to give. They could hardly look to her easily anymore, eyes barely capable of glimpsing her smooth skin, her slender beauty, the entrancing glint of candlelight upon her cage. Each new angle of that same uncompromising expression struck fresh bolts of utterly unexplored pleasure through them both. She kept it up, as all the while she circled the bed until she was against the wall on the opposite side.

They were at such a fever pitch, having devolved to little more than sweat and the consistent clap of skin.

“Good, we’re doing… good, right?”

“Feels, good. So… good.”

“You should climax now.”

And they did, each screaming out garbled words and various thanks that fell on deaf ears. Frenzied motions petered out to nothing, strained and slick bodies easily collapsing into the bliss of shared afterglow. They both finally fell unconscious in the same style: panting for breath and staring at Ful’s ass as she drew a finger along the wall away from them.

Still no noise. And the nails in the wood were very new indeed.

“Stay true,” she offered her farewell, which seemed to do little more than cause an errant twitch from the adventurers as she recovered her clothed self and left them to the company of one another.

If the cover of night would be her friend, she’d be sure to capitalize on it. To that end, she procured her boots, opened the window to her room, and let herself out via the branches of a large tree out back, knowing full well she could do nothing easier with the Rosepot safely locked up for the night.

She passed through the sleepy town easily, having made friends so much earlier with any who may have thought to pay her mind and stop her. Though, none even seemed to see her as she crept up to the blacksmith’s house. She wished to hear more of the nails, and perhaps what any involvement he may have had in the process of the Rosepot’s ownership changing hands and the marriage of its most recent owners.

Of course his nerves were also a phenomenon. As a smith he should have been used to calls from outsiders, so she could not fully suspect that to be the case. Lin’s description of him seemed incongruent with the way she’d known him, but not just as some matter of fuzzy detail memory. There seemed to be more at play.

A suspicion confirmed once she finally came upon his home proper, only to find him fully packed with one foot out his back door.

“Stop, please.”

“You!” he whipped about, the sudden motion causing a massive stumble across his threshold that sent him sprawling back into his own home. Such fear spoke volumes to her.

“Are you alright?”

“Nay, just begone. I’ve matters outside of town and I cannae stay and see to your—”

“I am not getting married,” she relieved him of the lie bluntly, even as she lent down to assist him. “I am here to help you.”

“What, what?” he squawked backpedaling cross the floor. “Naw, I d’need help of no kind.”

“Is miss Lin hurting you?” she asked, staying by him insistently.

“What?” his face was pale. “I’mmae… larger than her…”

Now that was a bald faced lie. Still if that was his insistence than Ful didn’t mind speaking softly, sharp as always, but softly. “She does not need to be larger to hurt you, here.” She put a finger to her own head.

His eyes went wider than even she thought possible as he breathed hard. “Who are ye, miss?”

“My name is Fulfillment, apostle of Interora,” she said as a peel of thunder cracked open the sky behind her. “And it is my mission to protect the autonomy of others.”

“Auto—ah….”

“The freedom of oneself. The control over one’s body.”

“My gods.” His whole body slumped like he’d been cut from strings. She was at his side in a second to support him with an expectant touch.

“No, no ma’am please,” he insisted. “I’m fine.”

“You are,” she said after checking him over. “So what scares you?”

“I dinnae thought it’d ever change. I was gonnae run to him, tell him like I should about you. Someone getting close,” he mumbled, eyes searching desperately for nothing in front of him. Through his raving and blubbering he managed to pull upon his ruined pack and shuffle about his home. Each little thought connecting things in Ful’s mind more and more as she calmed him, listened to him. None of the details creating a single clear picture, but all of them ringing ever more familiar to her.

Soon he was silent, clammed up and dry of what emotions had burst from him as he guiltily searched the deep recesses of his drawers. What he produced from within was a small box, which he passed to Ful like any further ownership of it would sooner burn the flesh from his fingers.

Inside, small pieces of metal glittered in the low light.

“Piercings, every last one of ‘em. Could never throw em’ away. Whole town win’ and convinced themselves she’d done it for some reason, some kid maybe? Her choice, I counna think more of it.”

“You mean Lin?”

“Aye. I thought it wa’ strange when they came. Dinnae feel right. Than she jussabout broke. Swung for his head with a test sword and than fell on ‘er ass crying about…” he breathed hard, shaking his head. “Sex, ‘bout sex and her… and he made me swear I’d never say anything. How could I, yeah?”

He looked to her, and saw the same expression, asking after any amount of forgiveness. “Yeah? He came for the ring, and then the nails and he... he coulddae snapped a finger. She’d do whatever for em’ than. Said all this tripe ‘bout repayin’ me for my discretion had her… to me… I was just trying to…”

“I understand.”

“He’s bloody terrifying, and if he did it to me and I…”

“He didn’t,” Ful shook her head. “But your suffering is only a part of this.”

“I’m still goin’ tonight I’m…” he paused, taking in things alongside a shaky breath. She hadn’t moved to do anything but comfort and listen. Still, sense spoke that she was from out of town and had come with a weapon.

And with an another look at her he knew she wasn’t about to perform any sort of arrest nor hit on him. In fact, as he pulled himself back together and took the box of piercings from him, she was nothing but gentle. The drone of rain and thunder hid each and every little sound. The world a cushion in which she moved like a spirit among his things. He’d abandon it, rebuilt elsewhere unhaunted, better.

“Aye, miss Fulfillment I thank your deity. I never thought any’ne ever come close t’understandin’ it all.”

“It’s more common than you think,” she warned, an ill timed strike of the sky sending chills through him.

He left on those words. And the town wouldn’t ever see him again.

The night covered her, but rain and thunder became her true companions as she swept back to the Inn, foregoing the tree entirely in favor of kicking the door in with a single well practiced motion. It was a heavy piece, but the newer deadbolt hadn’t ever fit it to begin with.

The homeliness had drained out of the place upon her revelations. The door to Lin’s room was silent against her ear, yet there was no kicking such a thing down. Experience dictated any number of traps could await her. She was done with the bullshit.

She couldn’t predict what methods, but she knew there could be danger. With what limited power she had in this regard she tapped the metal end of her staff to the lock of the door, and was surprised by it coming away with no resistance at the resulting golden spark.

She pushed her way into a room that stunk of sex, of rancid deeds. Lin sat alone, framed by none but another strike of lightning through the window, utterly naked and mindlessly masturbating on the bed. She could sense non in the way of traps, and her approaching wave drew no response from her. The woman was gone, her mind reduced to the endless movements of her hands and a few repeated words.

“I am your wife.”

“My name is Lin.”

“I love you so much. It’s obvious I would do anything you say…”

Over and over again, a mantra masturbated over a small wooden frame.

“Fye,” Ful snatched the thing up upon realizing it was a painting of their wedding day, expertly rendered by the artist in full detail now utterly damning. Lin’s radiant smile was stuck to her face under vacant eyes, and Ful was sure none had ever been able to tell. She dashed the thing upon the floor and watched in disgust as Lin weakly crawled after it, incapable of leaving her womanhood alone even as she tumbled off the bed to stare at the picture where it lay, magnetically locked upon it until Ful wrenched her gaze away by her hair.

“I…” her eyes were glassy, empty with naught but a small spark of recognition. “You. Did he send you? Shall I do you too…? I’m his wife, I love him so much, I’d do anything… I’m—”

“Enough,” she lowered her to the floor. Raising her staff and letting its soft glow permeate through the room.

“I am led here by my visions. In the south I learn of bandits that have lost their leader. Upon arrival I am greeted by a woman used to rough company, married recently to a man who’d found her while adventuring.”

The Inn was remodeled to allow for the crime’s perpetuation. He uses her to control others. All signs point thusly. Her staff roared with accumulated power. She slammed it down.

“I, Fulfillment, pronounce you a victim of mind control, and hereby seek to relieve you of it and return your truth to you!”

“No I…” Lin’s eyes fluttered. “Love…”

“Simple memory and sense alteration, reinforced often, nightly even,” Ful said as she stepped back around to the picture. “Perhaps a talisman for self reinforcement. You make no money while he is away I’m sure. Do you remember the truth?”

“I… no leave… please I…”

“What do you remember?” Ful pushed, lowering herself beside the woman.

“I don’t know these memories…” Lin clutched at her head. “I’m… hurting people… I’m… it’s not me… it’s not... but I remember them and they… why… my husband is there. Why am I fighting him I would never… I love…”

She trembled, body suddenly overcome with sick on the floor. Ful cleaned it up, alongside what remained of the mess she’d made. All the while comforting her, bringing her (holy) water, listening as with every word the woman’s voice shifted in subtle ways to become rougher, more hollow. She sat deep in twin confusion and thought, fidgeting and twitching with her hands as she grabbed at herself intermittantly. Steady on until she finally glanced from the floor and saw herself in the mirror. Her breath came short as she staggered to the alien’s reflection, fingers ripping red lines across skin that felt wrong. Broken half screams and sobs wracked her weak throat.

She went still as Ful’s arms wound around her from behind, pushing past the gentle streams of blood in a gentle twist about her large frame. Something sparkled, unblemished in her fingers.

“Ful… honey… I—”

“Where did this one go?” Ful asked softly as she held the gleaming piercing up for her.

“I’ve never… I-I love…”

Through her words, Ful felt a trembling hand on her wrist. She let the large woman guide her until she was on her tiptoes, holding the piercing to her ear.

“They’ve all healed shut…” Lin’s voice was nearly emotionless. “That… that…” her breath hitched, whole body caught in a single wicked flinch except for her head. Ful had held it with a firm hand as she pushed the pricing through. More blood ran from it, then a warmth as she gently withdrew her delicate fingers.

The ghost of pain whispered away, she’d healed the wound as she had the others. The metal pulled at the lost woman like an anchor.

What about this one?” Ful offered the next, her ever gentle fingers wrapping calm into her body like a spiderweb across her skin.

Another for her ear, one low, and gut wrenching at her naval. Her other ear, more. The lobe, higher in the shell. Each one a small bit of pain, followed by the uncompromising comfort of warmth. She trembled under the touch, committing to each one in a series of leaps grounded in the small body of the woman pushed against her back.

“This is the final one,” Ful’s voice brushed against her ear and she felt the spark of it down the whole of her spine. “You’ve done so well.”

“It was supposed to be permanent,” she said of the final metal led to her eyebrow. The scar beckoned.

Then it was back, a gleam that felt right.

“What… what is it you said… what am I?”

“A victim,” Ful said between her shoulder blades.

“And you knew. Knew about the bandits—my men. You heard and you…” her head hung, her face swathed in shadow as she was released and turned to the smaller woman. She could no longer stand, as if every new weight on her body was a hundred. Her hands grasped at Ful’s sharp clothing as she sunk to her knees. Her strong voice wavered past everything regardless, and when her eye’s met Ful’s there was a deep feeling within for perhaps the first time in years. “I should thank you.”

“Stay true.”

“Tough shit,” she spit, the motion looking delightfully alien as a passing wave of annoyance rippled through her features. “Can’t even spit right, damn. This body…. I… I want to burn it…”

“That’s common, bu—”

“The Inn,” Lin clarified. “I’ll burn it all. A fire in the kitchen. To hell with this place and anyone else in it. Don’t try and stop me.”

“I will get my things.”

She didn’t try and stop her, but she did knock on the other doors on the way out.

Upon the next morning the town gathered to find the Inn a smoking shell of what it had once been. The heavy rain had given way to a beautiful sunrise, and it had kept the walls of the building sound if nothing else. The adventurers that had been displaced were out of sorts, and the traveling priest was missing.

At the first suggestion it may have been her fault, the poor lad who uttered it was tackled to the ground by Jace and so many following adventures he’d nearly cracked a rib. But what finally calmed any suspicion was the loud and full-hearted vouching offered by the whole of the Chopin family. Such suspicions clearing up meant the town could focus on the true grave news and move on to mourn the unfortunate passing of Lin, the Innkeeper’s wife.

In the coming days the news would be broken to her husband, who’d surprise everybody by blowing up with apparent grief not at her loss, but in response to the accompanying absence of the young blacksmith. The larger scandal was soon to come, however, as a squadron of holy knights from the south would arrive some time after. Deep into a night of drinking, the story went he accosted them all in a fit of inexplicable rage upon noticing one of them flash some supposedly rare holy symbol, and later was slain in a less than memorable judicial duel the following fortnight.

But that was all to come later.

As for Fulfillment, she slept away a horrid night upon losing track of Lin shortly after seeing her spark up the Inn. A vision came to her that bid her leave just as abruptly as she’d come, and so she heeded it with all her usual sharp efficiency. The only bump in the road of her exit came in the form of a rough voice, hoarse from disuse in that particularly familiar way.

“There you are! Come on I won’t hurt ya!” Lin had called after her on the road. The woman was covered in dirt stains, her clothing rough tatters and armor pieced together from the lost bin of the former Inn.

Like that she would have looked every part the former bandit leader, had it not be for the round pliability of her body and lack of callouses in the right places.

“Have you need of further assistance?” Ful asked carefully, having thought her job well finished after such guidance as she’d received the previous night. “Is your mind clouded?”

“I feel amazing,” she answered as she circled around and eagerly grabbed Ful’s hands. “My name is Katarin, not… what you called me before. I want to go with you! I just thought...” she paused, digging through a sack she’d slung over her shoulder until she produced a well crafted chunk of metal. “I wanted to find my hammer. He” --she spit, properly this time-- “made me bury it. The handle rotted, but the head’s in perfect shape.”

“What I do is good. It is true.” Ful said. “It is also disturbing, and I have been told I can be poor company on the road.”

“My men wouldn’t have me back in a century and you… ruined my life,” she laughed heartily. “And I needed it. Others do too, yeah?”

“You may walk at my side,” Ful decided, hefting her suitcase and staff. “Some victims have a hard time realizing independence for themselves once they’ve been freed. You would not be the first to hope to join me on some idyllic crusade. Once you’ve found both yourself and boredom with me, I look forward to the life you’ll make after.”

“Boredom, huh?” Katarin asked with a look over at Ful. “Sure, I could look forward to that."