Donovan Flynrie
Donovan Flynrie
The Colorful Cleric
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Flynrie is noted to stand in relaxed positions, making her tall height appear smaller and less intimidating, if only a little. Lithe, conventionally attractive body with little muscle definition due to [long redaction]... Her progress will continued to be monitored over the next months to observe further improvements in her condition. Further reports on Flynrie's condition to be submitted by Blythe Weber.
Body Features
Flynrie's tiefling form is one of the more extreme cases of the infernal influence affecting the physique that has been documented. Unlike other tieflings, Flynrie's tail more closely resembles a goat's tail, with her natural black hair. She also has hooves, unlike most tieflings who have human feet, resembling that of a horse with fur carefully trimmed to keep it clear of mud or potential knots. Flynrie has expressed that the structure of her legs and height has led to occasional back problems, something that should also be monitored by Blythe Weber and perhaps another cleric.
Facial Features
Flynrie has allowed a full examination of her skull, and the x-rays provided detail the extent of [redactions]... Her horns are healthy, and with the caps at the end of the points she cannot accidentally gore herself or others. Her expressions can be rather hard to read, as well as where she is looking at, due to the lack of cornea and sclera, but careful observation of eye twitches will give away the location of her gaze. Her fangs are also in one piece and healthy. Apart from these nonhuman features, her vitiligo is not contained to only her face but extends to the rest of her body.
Identifying Characteristics
Aside from all other identifying features thus detailed in this report, Flynrie has two identifying burns on the back of her neck and on the inside of her right wrist. Both burns are approximately a square inch inch in area. [Redaction].
Apparel & Accessories
Flynrie has expressed that she is most comfortable in suits, despite numerous offers for other clothing to be delivered for her. She has been observed wearing other gear during physical therapy, and battle, but aside from those exceptions she is found to be in a two-piece black suit with a cobalt tie. She is always seen wearing an amulet to Bahamut, originally [redaction].
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Flynrie was born a [redaction] in Brooklyn to [redaction] and [redaction] Flynrie with a [redaction]. Low social and economic status drove the family to find whatever income they could, leading Flynrie to find whatever odd job she could.
[Multiple pages of redactions]
Previously in a relationship to the human paladin Sage Mendez before [redaction].
Gender Identity
Flynrie identifies as female.
Sexuality
When asked bluntly, Flynrie has expressed that she is pansexual and open to flings and one night stands. Noted that Flynrie has made no mention of romance, which may be due to previous trauma. May require further investigation where her lines are.
Education
Flynrie did not return for her senior year of high school, and has expressed no interested in obtaining her GED.
Employment
Classified
Accomplishments & Achievements
Cleric of Bahamut
Failures & Embarrassments
[Heavily redacted]
Mental Trauma
Flynrie potentially suffers from PTSD, requires proper diagnosis in a safe environment. May suffer from paranoia in the future, must keep an eye on her reactions to strangers - especially fellow tieflings.
Intellectual Characteristics
Despite her lack of education, Flynrie appears to be knowledgeable on multiple subjects and have a thirst for knowledge of any sort. Could be good for further information gathering.
Morality & Philosophy
Morality unclear, though Flynrie seems to display a strong respect for authority and law, as well as retail and service workers. It is clear that she believes in right and wrong, but her definitions sometimes appear to fluctuate.
Taboos
As far as it has been observed, Flynrie has few taboos beyond disrespecting children, retail/service workers, and those of a higher rank than herself.
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
From my observation, Flynrie is largely motivated by a desire for redemption and revenge. It is the revenge that is troubling, but as her goals align with ours for the moment, we will continue to monitor before intervening.
Savvies & Ineptitudes
Various testing on Flynrie shows that many skills she had boasted of ... are unsatisfactory. This may be due to physical recovery period. Will monitor to see if improvements are made.
Virtues & Personality perks
Flynrie strongly values community and respect, and therefore is friendly and polite with everyone she meets. With her past experience also comes with information on [heavy redactions].
Vices & Personality flaws
Upon our initial encounter, Flynrie requested that she be given cigarettes as the temple refused to get them for her. Since then, her nicotine addiction has returned in full force and she goes approximately a pack a week. Must monitor to see the affects on her physical recovery.
[Redactions]
Hygiene
Flynrie values personal hygiene, as seen by the meticulous care she puts into her appearance each day.
Meet Bahamut's new colorful cleric and acting receptionist at Dead End's temple, Donovan Flynrie. A somewhat new face to Dead End with mysterious motivations of her own on how she came to reside there.
View Character Profile
Alignment
Chaotic Good
Age
30
Date of Birth
January 5
Children
Gender
Female
Eyes
Robin's Egg Blue
Hair
Dyed sunset ombre of deep purple, to red, to yellow
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Dark blue with vitiligo patches of cornflower blue
Height
6'6" /1.98m
Weight
~200lbs
Quotes & Catchphrases
Flynrie seems to mainly refer to people as "boss" or "sugar." How she decides what to call someone is unknown at this time, but it largely appears to be whatever she is feeling at the moment.
That Time Amor and Donovan Bonked
It had started off as an innocent train of thought as Donovan watched Amor work, curled up in one of their comfortable chairs with a cup of tea while they pondered over their latest experiment. She listened to them mutter under their breath in Faerie about components not behaving as they should, distantly thinking about other times and places while sipping her tea. It was far from the first time she had been left to her own thoughts while others did their work, and her overactive brain was happy to fill her attention span.
Their movements were graceful, almost unfairly so as their hands worked, her eyes tracking the long fingers as they reached for another ingredient and measured it out before carefully adding it to the small cauldron in front of them. Even the way they paused to scribble their notes was graceful, long hair drifting into their way before they flicked it back behind their shoulder. Their brow twitched slightly, the only sign of annoyance she knew they would show. Her eyes went back to looking over the graceful lines of their body, wondering if they ever looked Ungraceful a moment of their life. Even covered in dirt, they still had somehow managed to maintain that air of poise and ethereal quality of most fae.
Remembering the expressions they had made when under her had her second guessing herself for a moment, but Donovan knew even then they had retained most of their poise… But how much more would it take to see that break? It was a tempting thought, leading to other thoughts that had her biting her lip and forgetting her tea, past experiences of her own mingling desire with too many other thoughts, and suddenly she was thinking of That Day Again and Those Steps Again and her own screams as she-
“Mo ghràidh,” they repeated, eyes sparkling and lips barely holding back one of their small smiles, “Care to share what you’re thinking?”
“Uh,” Donovan tried to remember where she was, blinking rapidly, “Have you ever been fucked so hard you literally forget how to think?”
It was their turn to give her a slow blink, before responding, “Once, though I still retained most of my ability to think. It was… nice. Yes, I liked it quite a bit.”
Trying to stay present and not think about how hot that probably had been or the echoes of screams, Donovan continued, “And have you done the fucking?”
Another blink, and they were turning to face her more, “I… have not.”
“Would you ever want to, sugar?” she tried to say it lightly, slamming those thoughts out of her mind like she had been trained to do all those years ago.
“Is this another one of your roundabout ways of asking to have sex?” She could practically sense the small smirk they were hiding as they leaned back against their work table, showing off their figure in their gown. Looking harder, Donovan thought she saw the slightest blush on their pale cheeks.
Smiling, Donovan stood before stepping into their space, watching their eyes widen as she placed her hands on either side of them before leaning in to say, “Sugar, if you are up for it, I would love for you to fuck me with complete and raw abandon, until I am a senseless mess beneath you. How is that for roundabout?”
They sucked in a breath, eyes darkening as they looked her over, lingering on her mouth and breasts before returning to meet her eyes, “Depends, would you be willing to behave?”
“Yes,” her eyes searched their face, refusing to move until they did, feeling her heartbeat pick up as they easily unbuttoned her suit and pushed her jacket off her shoulders.
With hands warm enough for her to feel them through her dress shirt, they wrapped one arm around her waist, fingers seeking the seam of her pants where her tail poked through while the other wrapped her tie around their hand. “Then,” they yanked her down by her tie at the same time as they pressed firm fingers to the base of her tail, mouth curling in a smile as she jolted and moaned, “Let’s see how much you can take until you break, mo ghràidh.”
Bahamut, she missed this feeling, moaning at their words even as they pulled her in closer. As they kissed her, hand firmly holding her there with her tie while they massaged her tail, it took almost all of her effort for her knees to not buckle under the immediate waves of pleasure crashing into her system. She clutched the table behind them, until suddenly Amor was the one pressing her against the table, their body firm against hers and keeping her upright as their kisses grew intense.
Soon their tongue was inside of her mouth, tasting of tea and pastries as they slowly laid claim with every stroke until she was gasping. Any thoughts about smudged lipstick escaped her brain as they bit her lip with their withdrawal, a self-satisfied smirk on their face as they took in her expression. Their smirk only grew as they pressed more insistently on the sensitive nerves of her tail, causing her to moan loudly and tremble as her hooves almost slid out from under her, only kept up by the weight of them pressing against her.
They chuckled slightly, kissing her one more time before commanding, “Bedroom, before you make a mess of this experiment.”
She held back a whine, almost suggesting they just push her over the nearest piece of furniture, but Donovan was trying to behave for them. “Of course,” she nodded, making sure her hooves were steady under her, only for Amor’s yank on her tie to nearly bring them out from under her again, holding back a moan at the display of control.
The sly look Amor gave her only served to increase the heat already in her veins as they led her to their bedroom. “On your back.” As she rushed to do as they commanded (carefully placing her amulet on their side table), they closed and locked the bedroom door behind them, pausing for a moment to look at her with a head tilt. “If… it is ever too much… let me know.”
Smiling from where she lay on their bed, Donovan reached out to them, answering as they took her hand and pressed it above her head while climbing on top of her, “I will, boss. You ever use the stoplight method?”
“Green is go, yellow is slow down, and red means immediate stop?” With her affirmative nod, they gave her a small smile. “Something I’ve only read of in books… but useful. Now.” They took hold of her tie again, “Please obey my instructions, mo ghràidh, if you wish to be… how was it you put it? ‘A senseless mess beneath’ me?” They had lowered themselves down to her, whispering the last bit against her lips and a teasing flick of their tongue that had her almost wiggling under them before they rose back to sitting.
Gods, the teasing. She wasn’t looking to be teased, as much as she enjoyed occasionally having to beg to be fucked. If only there was a stoplight color that meant speed up. “Please, sugar.”
Amor’s hand paused in trying to untie her necktie, eyes returning to hers with a mischievious glint. “Please what?”
Donovan groaned, trying to not roll her eyes, trying to be good, but needing this to go faster for her damn nerves. “Please fuck me until I’m a senseless mess beneath you… mark me… claim me… take me any damn way you like.” She arched against them, trying to entice them in any way she could to help with the lust that had sprung on her faster than she would like to admit.
They groaned, hand tightening on hers before gliding down to join the other in working her tie off of her, “That’s my good girl. Now, stay still until I tell you otherwise… I may have to take certain measures.”
“Like?” she breathed in deep as the tie slid free, watching those fingers of theirs pluck the buttons of her shirt free.
Their eyes ate up every inch of skin they exposed, biting their lip as they tugged the rest from her pants and pressed warm fingers to her taut stomach. After a moment of taking her in, Amor responded, “Tying you up, if I must.”
The way her body responded to the threat should have put her to shame, but she was so far past feeling any sort of shame. But… she shut those thoughts down.
Gasping at the way Amor’s thumb brushed against her ribs, she managed to get out, “Maybe some other time, sugar.”
A graceful nod of understanding, eyes taking in the things unsaid. "Of course, mo ghràidh.” Their hands traced up her sides, resting on the band of her bra while their head lowered to skim their nose over the swell of one breast. Pressing an open mouthed kiss above the cup of her bra, they murmured, “I need this out of my way…”
Donovan waited for them to tell her to move so they could do just that, but the words never came as their fingers impatiently pulled the fabric down, her breasts popping out of the cups and their warm mouth immediately latching onto a pierced nipple. Gasping, she arched into their mouth with a string of soft curses that made them chuckle. Their hand got to work on her other breast, looking far too pleased with the way her hips tried to roll as they pinched just right.
Just as she was about to beg them to do more than switch between her breasts, they pulled away. The look they gave her as their other hand took the place of their mouth had her blushing, struggling to hold onto the sheets above her head as they continued toying with her piercings.
“The piercings make that much of a difference?” Their gaze was intense, watching her reactions carefully as they tried to see just how many sounds she could make - something Donovan knew was A Lot.
Between gasps and moans and rolling her hips against their weight, Donovan managed to get out, “If you could see the state of my panties right now, you would have your answer.”
They dragged their eyes away from her chest and down her stomach, as if they could see through her dress pants and to the soaked underwear she was trapped in. “And who am I to leave such an answer waiting?”
Giggles bubbled from her throat, bringing a wider smile to their face as she responded, “Why I think that would make you anyone but Amor Eirian.”
“That would be correct,” their own giggles were even graceful compared to hers, but she was distracted by the way their fingers followed the path of her patches down to the band of her pants. They moved off of her legs, settling between them as they unfastened her pants. “You’ve been so good for me, mo ghràidh, but please remove your shirt and bra for me now.”
It turned into more than just her shirt and bra, and even Amor had a hard time keeping themselves clothed as their mouths found each others again. Donovan returned her hands to above her head, letting loose a long, drawn out moan as their fingers smoothed over her hips before taking grip and grinding themselves against her heat. The feel of them against her, their weight and heat, and their soft panting sounds were intoxicating. Better than any alcohol.
“Sugar,” Donovan managed to get out as their mouth moved onto the column of her neck, throwing her head back at the feel of their tongue tracing its way to the hollow of her throat. They settled there and along her collarbones with a purpose, trying their best to leave marks with careful nips and pulls that had her gasping and squirming against their grip.
“Stay. Still,” they murmured, eyes blazing as their nails dragged carefully over her hips and down her thighs, only causing her to gasp and squirm more until they barely growled out another warning. “Be a good girl and you will get what you want.”
“Oh gods,” was all she could say in response, eyes flickering closed and doing her best to stay still as they caressed her thighs. Shivering as one hand moved closer to her inner thighs, she continued, “I’ll be good, boss.”
“Mm, good girl,” they hummed, moving down her body, between her breasts and to her stomach while murmuring, “You are absolutely stunning, mo ghràidh. How you are the worshipper and not the person of worship is beyond me.”
The breath in her lungs left in a whoosh, and she felt the steady blush she had been gaining intensify as she grasped for a response to their blasphemous praise. She gasped as their teeth scrapped along her ribs, sinking lower without waiting for her to gain her thoughts to respond. Even knowing what was coming, her body shivering at the feeling of their hair carressing her skin, Donovan was not prepared for the feeling of their mouth on her inner thigh.
She whined, the sound almost pathetic to her own ears if she gave a damn at that moment. They chuckled against the sensitive skin, the smallest nip to the meat of her thigh her only warning before they bit down.
“Fuck!” Donovan shouted before moaning, hips bucking against the suddenly firm grip they had on her legs. Her hands automatically flew to their hair, gripping tight and making them moan before she remembered she was supposed to stay still and returning them to above her head.
Releasing her skin from sucking a deeper mark around the bite, Amor popped back up to her. Their hand on her face had her opening her eyes, looking into their concerned stare as they asked, “Was that too much, ma colombe?”
Her breath was already heaving, but she immediately shook her head, “Sugar, that was perfect, I just was not expecting it and that makes it even better. I… I like that a lot.”
A soft smile graced their lips even as their eyes grew darker, “Very well then… Now, can you keep your hands to yourself or will I have to stop?”
“Please, sugar, don’t stop,” Donovan begged, resolutely gathering their bedsheets in her hands to try and keep herself from latching on again.
They smirked, settling back down between her legs in a look that was obscene as they wrapped their arms around her thighs, “Good girl… I bet you know how to stay still and take what I give you.” The kiss they pressed to her thigh and the knowing look they threw her way had her blood boiling.
When she could only nod in response, breath frozen in her lungs, they moved on, marking the line between patches of her different blues with licks and bites that had her moaning and gasping in their arms. She was so close to begging Amor to hurry up, to touch her where she was burning for them, when they finally decided to take pity on her.
The first broad lick had her jerking in their grip, turning her head into her arm to muffle the loud moans as they took to task. They were not shy about it, making happy sounds as their tongue delved deep into her before withdrawing to flick over her clit. Donovan wasn’t sure which language she was rambling in anymore, especially not when they decided to lightly suck with a contented hum while slipping two fingers into her soaking heat. From there, they only served to draw her higher and higher with every caress of their fingers and tongue. Then she was falling, one long drawn out moan turning into a whine as they pulled their mouth away to watch her while their fingers coaxed every drop of her orgasm from her with murmured praises.
Her brain was still fuzzy from finishing when Donovan felt them begin to pull away, body immediately responding by putting her hand on theirs and going, “More, please more, sugar.”
Their answering moan had her opening her eyes, looking at their beautiful face still shiny from eating her out as Amor tried to regain their composure to respond, “So greedy, mo ghràidh… luckily, I am in a giving mood. You may move your hands as well, but do not cover your mouth. I want to hear all those pretty sounds you make while my fingers are in you.”
The sentence alone would have been enough to have her moaning again, but the way they had said it, the heat combined with the careful curl of their fingers had her scrambling for any semblance of control over her body. And the sounds they managed to draw from her had them smiling, shifting to a more comfortable position and allowing her to see just how affected they were. If she were not currently tongue-tied in Abyssal, Donovan may have even teased them about the lovely shade of red they had turned.
Taking a pointed look at their erection, she managed to remember how to speak English enough to moan a, “More. I need more.”
“Now, now,” they tsked, but slowed the pace of their fingers, “You know how to ask politely, ma colombe.”
“Please,” she had no shame when it came to begging, “Fuck me, sugar.”
Amor shuddered, eyes closing to steady themselves before looking at her again, “You truly are greedy today… but I find my patience waning.” Pulling their fingers from her, they pulled them into their mouth, clearly enjoying the taste of her with while staring her down. “On your knees.”
Once again, Donovan’s breathing stopped, only a whine leaving her throat as she scrambled to turn herself over. She heard their soft intake of breath, forcing her to look back at Amor before they were able to reign in the hunger on their face. Sensing their momentary weakness, Donovan sank lower onto her front, allowing them a better look at what she was offering them to take.
They groaned at the sight of her, hands smoothing over her ass, “Tempting from every angle…”
An experimental squeeze had her giggling slightly, the slight reminder that this was new to them enough to temper her impatience while she let them feel up her backside. At least, that was enough to keep her at bay until their fingers made their way to her tail. With the first press of their fingers she was keening, almost planting her face into their sheets with how hard she arched to get more from their fingers. When their spare hand found her clit again, circling it in time to the hand on her tail, she swore she saw stars.
“Sugar, please,” she managed to pant out, getting Amor to slow down enough for her to say, “I don’t know if I can stay on my knees if you keep doing that.” Gods, at this rate she’d ruin their sheets.
Pausing at her words, they removed their fingers from her clit, but returned to barely rubbing her tail, causing her breath to hitch at the teasing touch. “Perhaps another time, then.” There was a soothing touch on her hip, and she felt just as much as she heard them rise onto their knees, body barely covering hers as they pressed a kiss to her spine. “Wait one moment for me, ma colombe, while I retrieve a condom for us.”
Donovan hummed her acknowledgement, flipping her hair out of her face, only then realizing that her hair had come undone at some point. Maybe it had been when they were making out. Watching their lithe body go for their nightstand, having only seen a fraction of their collection when she was nosy during their first hookup, had her curious about what all they had.
Those thoughts left her mind as they turned, beautiful in the soft light of their bedroom. Perhaps if she had paid more attention in school, Donovan would have been able to think of some sonnet or poem that might have been able to capture a fraction of the beautiful sight her hormone-addled mind took in. But she was not a poet, or an artist of any kind, and so the words that left her mouth were direct.
“Bahamut, I cannot wait to have that gorgeous cock in me.”
Amor’s eyes widened, cheeks turning pink before they snorted delicately, “Patience, mo ghràidh, patience.” They returned to kneeling behind her, patting her lightly as if attempting to console her, “Such words make me want to drag this out even more.”
“Tease,” she grumbled, wiggling her hips at them in an obvious show of ‘please fuck me, I’m desperate.’
“But you are a delight to tease, especially when you turn that lovely shade of purple,” they supplied, the sounds of the condom wrapper being broken and a hitched breath as they slid it on. “I will not leave you waiting much longer, thank you for being a good girl and staying on your knees.”
Moaning at their words, Donovan repositioned her arms under her, preparing for whatever they might give her, “Of course, sugar. Just fuck me good, please.”
Her breath caught again as they were suddenly on her, rubbing themselves against her while pulling her knees farther apart. “Leave the rest to me, mo ghràidh. However…” She bit her lip at the feel of them lining up, barely pressing in before Amor continued, “Only my name will be leaving your lips now.”
Donovan’s brain scrambled at the command, built habits and training fighting for domination, but the feel of them pushing into her threw them out the window. The slight stretch made her moan their name, and just her actually saying their name had her as heated as the feel of them in her.
Their voice shook with their moan as they hilted in her, fingers tight on her hips, “You… take me so beautifully.”
Amor took a moment, seemingly pulling themselves together, before slowly starting to thrust, working on gaining speed until she was trying to match their movements. They gave her what she wanted, though, and soon she was just trying to hold on, rocking with each press of their hips. Donovan gave them what they wanted too, their name a repeated moaned prayer on her lips that had them clutching her tighter and moaning praises.
Then they slowed, her moans of protest cut off as their hand slid down her back, pressing her down into her arch. Donovan lost her ability to think as they traded speed for power, their hips snapping into hers from this new angle leaving her breathless and whining. And then they slid their fingers from her hip to her tail, pressing down and pulling a disgustingly loud moan from her throat as they worked the sensitive nerves there.
It was perfect, and all she could do was moan and try to stay on her knees as they took her, taking in the noises they both made and the feel of their body over her and the friction and - oh gods.
She shattered without warning, shouting their name and swearing she saw white as they continued their thrusts. Donovan barely heard them swear, still lost to her orgasm and the silence in her thoughts. It was only when they snapped to a stop, their own moan loud as they finished, that she even remembered where she was.
They both collapsed as Amor pulled themselves from her, Donovan’s knees giving way while Amor tried to keep themselves from fully falling on top of her after disposing the condom. Instinctively, she reached out to them, smiling lazily when they drew each other into their arms while their breathing slowed. But she was content in the silence, even all of her normal background thoughts stilling while the two of them pieced themselves back together.
Only once the sweat seemed to grow cold on her skin did Donovan try to speak, “For a first time… you did perfectly, Amor.”
Shivering, Amor’s eyes fluttered open as they breathed deep, “You made it very easy, Sweet Pea.”
She laughed a little at that, “Well thank you for accommodating my spontaneous requests for sex, sugar.”
A smile bloomed on their face, a hint of devilish intent in their eyes as they responded, “Always happy to oblige, mo ghràidh.”
Heartstop
[REDACTED]
Foreshadowing
[REDACTED]
Count 10
For two weeks, she had been preparing for that blasted fae to arrive. Calypso had arranged the meeting to be held during one of the social gatherings the Clan hosted among the underbelly of the supernatural in they city and told her to win him and his knowledge of fae drugs and aphrodisiacs over. According to what Venus was able to get the Vines to find out, Tarathiel Ianra had a type - tall, bottom-heavy women in expensive clothing. It was not a question that she fit his preferences, she had seen the sketches of the women the Vines had seen him with, only a matter of discovering if he liked them demure or to take command. In fact, it was because of Venus being his type, that she was sure this job had been handed over to the Orchids, rather than having one of the Lilies foster the new relationship.
Either way, Calypso had “gifted” Venus with appropriate attire for the occasion. The thick diamond choker and matching bracelet that hid her Clan tattoos were heavy, but merely a loan that she knew would return to their cushioned safe after the social dinner and show. The dress, on the other hand, she knew would come from her next paycheck… if it even covered the cost of the dress, let alone the tailoring to have it hug her body and fit her height.
It was going so well too, Tarathiel unable to take his eyes off of her as Calypso greeted him in the lounge of the Clan’s exclusive club before guiding the nervous fae to their private alcove still in view of the rest of the club. She was silent, pouring drinks for them with steady hands, catching Tarathiel’s eyes caressing her pushed up breasts before landing on the swathe of blue patchwork on her thigh exposed by the dangerously-high slit of her dress. It was only a matter of time before they had moved on to the next phase of their plan, Calypso offering Venus’s “services” to Tarathiel while he was in the club and discussing their business arrangements. Then she slid in next to him on his side of the leather couch, mind blank of thought beyond the need to win him over.
She had seduced plenty of people for the Clan, making her codename apt, and so it was as easy as sliding onto his lap, making sure her bottom sat firmly where he could feel it most, and batting her eyes while asking him if he minded she drank with them. Oh, the rush of power Venus felt watching the fae crumble into her palm was exhilarating, better than any of the drugs she had tried. It was almost cute how shyly his hand grabbed onto her thigh while he slammed his drink down, Venus contemplating if she might actually let him have what he so desperately was trying not to think about.
Catching Calypso’s eye, Venus knew things were going expediently well, and she barely had to pay attention to their talk and negotiation as she focused on the subtle changes in Tarathiel’s body, like the dilation of his pupils and his breathing speeding up. All the while, she merely sat there on him. She hardly said anything, just lightly running her fingernails over his hand and arm on her thigh, thinking of all the information they had accumulated about this elusive fae. All the time she had wasted trying to memorize those little details when all it took was sitting in his lap to have him practically drooling on her while whispering dirty things into her ear…
Of course, those thoughts had flown out the window when her partner appeared at Calypso’s shoulder, eyes carefully avoiding her sprawled form as he bent and whispered into their ear. If it was not in Venus’s best interests to memorize every microexpression on her boss’s face, she might have missed the split second of their eyebrows pressing down that usually expressed anger at whatever he had whispered in their ear. Venus decided that was the best moment to squirm slightly in Tarathiel’s lap, distracting him as she moved his hand to her inner thigh and sighing up into his ear.
Then Calypso had called her name, and the game was over, them apologizing as there was an urgent matter she had to attend to. Venus had merely sighed, running a hand along Tarathiel’s jaw and watching him swallow as she moved to her hooves, purposely ignoring the burning sensation of her partner’s eyes on the open back of the dress. She pushed all thoughts of his pale hands on her dark skin, bending to press a kiss to Tarathiel’s cheek and murmuring sweet words into his sharply pointed ear. At least he smelled good.
Following her partner from the club’s open floor, there was a wicked part of her that delighted in the stares that followed her, a smirk curling on her lips at the open envy on people’s faces and the lingering looks that followed in the wake of her swaying hips and black silk. Even some of the other warlocks cast looks at her, some she had already slept with and others she hadn’t decided on yet. She didn’t miss the irritated flick of her partner’s tail as he hurried them through, barely stifling a chuckle as he glared at her while holding the door for her.
The hot shit act dropped as soon as the door closed though, Venus sighing as she ran her tongue over her fangs, “What the fuck is going on that is more important than sweet talking that fae bastard?”
He snorted, but there was tension still in his eyes as he motioned in a direction, “One of your recruits… it appears he cannot keep his hands to himself.”
The words were an icy shock, washing away any hint of desire in her blood or swagger in her pace. “How so?”
“One of the dancers,” he grimaced, shaking his head, “She wouldn’t talk to me beyond his name, but it was obvious what Brassia had attempted.”
Venus liked to think she had a steady, calm head on her shoulders, but in that moment she did not care as the ice in her veins turned to hellfire. “I’ll skin him alive, starting with his fucking dick and balls.” She took down the hall, gown flaring behind her, “I assume someone has him?”
Raising a smooth brow, he followed after her, dress shoes loud on the marble but nowhere near as thundering as her hooves, “I know where he is, but I assumed you would want to handle the dancer. She may respond better to a more,” he paused, glancing down, “Well, someone less manly.”
“Don’t let your ‘manliness’ rip your shirt again, boss,” she was barely unable to keep herself from rolling her eyes, “And I’ll comfort her with the knowledge that Brassia will no longer have fingers to touch anyone ever again.”
If she had not been staring straight ahead, Venus may have seen the smile on her partner’s face. “Then I have some good news for you. Calypso has already authorized his preparation to be a deathlock. Determined that he is too much of a loose cannon between this and that time he nearly gave our one cartel ring to a fucking undercover cop.”
“Nine fucking hells, I almost forgot about that,” Venus sneered, fingers reflexively forming a fist at the memory of her disbelief that one man could be so insanely stupid. Never mind that she had once thought the ex-drug lord would be a good fit for their Clan. If you could call being the distributor of at most three city blocks being a “drug lord.” The stupidity of people never failed to astound her though. “Good, means I won’t have to deal with his whining once I am through.”
He led her back through the building and to one of the training rooms, barely sparing her the warning that Brassia was in the room and giving her time to settle herself with half of a cigarette. Crossing his arms in the hall across from her, Venus felt his eyes on her as she summoned her pact dagger, the ornate hilt and blade flipping in between her fingers. Only after she hissed for him to say what was on his mind did he meet her eyes, a grimace passing over his handsome face before he asked, “Were you ever..?”
The underlying concern in his voice made her pause, taken aback by the worry for her wellbeing. “I believe some would call me…” another flip of the dagger, bringing the blade up to examine her reflection in the shining metal, “prone to stabbing those who might even dare.” She refused to mention the countless names and whistles and comments anyone with a pair of pair of tits received on the city streets. The times where she couldn’t just pull a dagger when a stranger moved to grab in a store or stood too close on the subway. A blue eye ringed in glittering gold eyeliner blinked back at her, before sliding away to look at the tiefling across the hall. “And you?”
A second’s hesitation had her putting the dagger down, swallowing to ask the uncomfortable question, when he finally responded, “Is there a difference between the Clan forcing you to… and just a single individual forcing you?”
For the second time in a handful of minutes, Venus’s thoughts froze in their tracks. “I enjoy it… most of the time.”
A muscle worked in his jaw, “Well then, there’s your answer, Venus.”
He always had the uncanny ability to get under her skin, and she under his. She gritted her teeth, crushing the remainder of her cigarette in her palm. The sting of the heat of the lit end didn’t stop the confusing thoughts in her brain though. So she focused instead on what she had set out to do, summoning a more controlled rage while sending her dagger to wherever it when not summoned.
The slam of the door hitting the wall of the training room made the pale orange tiefling jump, spinning to see Venus and she strode into the room. Brassia grinned seeing her, not even hiding as he checked her out and blatantly stared at the way her breasts looked in the dress, “Damn, Venus. Guess that fae prick finished fast - not that you could blame him when you look like that, huh? Come here to ask me to finish what he started?”
He seemed to not even acknowledge her partner slipping in after her, or the bloody nose he was clearly trying to stop from bleeding all over the damn padded flooring of the training room. Well, the cleaning crew were already going to have a time when she was through with him.
Raising an eyebrow at the pathetic scene Brassia painted, Venus stopped only a few feet from him, “What the fuck happened to your face?” She knew, of course, briefed by her partner on the way over that the dancer Chloe had headbutted him and ran when she thought she broke his nose.
“Just some bitch who couldn’t make up her mind,” he tossed aside, eyes still glued to her as she stood nearly a foot taller than him. “Too afraid to admit she wanted me.”
Venus lashed out, gripping his hair and yanking his face back to meet her eyes. With a saccharine smile and syrupy sweet voice, she said, “If you are going to lie to me, grow some balls and look me in the fucking eye and not my tits.”
Under other circumstances, the sound he made might have made her laugh, but the squeak only made her smile sharp. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Come now,” Venus managed to keep her temper leashed, tightly controlling her facial expression and tone. “What is the one sin our Mistress forbids?”
“Betraying her?” Brassia tried to move away, body and face going still as he felt something poke at his side, “Is that your fucking dagger?”
She didn’t respond to his incredulity, “Try again, or do you really not remember a single thing, Brassia?”
“What? What the fuck are you talking about?” To his credit, he knew better than to try and make a move against her, hands up in the air and allowing the blood from his nose to drip down his cheek and neck, into his rumpled white shirt collar. “Is this some weird sex thing?”
“Rape,” she spat the word out, watching the way he flinched from her and the dagger at his side. “I am speaking of rape, Brassia. Which you attempted to do on Clan grounds, of all places. Did you truly think you could get away with such a thing?”
The orange tiefling sputtered, face turning red, “What, that thing with the dancer? She was making eyes at me and asking for it, I fucking swear!”
Eyes narrowing, Venus finally dropped the smile from her face, a gentle purr in her voice, “She did no such thing, Brassia. You put your filthy hands on a woman without her consent, tried to pull her into a secluded spot to have your way with her, and she fought back. What about any of that tells you that she wanted anything your pathetic, sad excuse for a cock could give her?”
“Bitch,” he gasped out, finally starting to squirm against her hold on his hair. “What does it matter if I fuck her, it’s no different from offing someone or roughing them up.”
Venus was barely stronger than the average man, but she had the element of surprise and speed on her side as she punched his face, the hilt of her dagger scratching his cheek as he was sent to the floor. To make sure he second guessed getting up, Venus leisurely strode over to him, pressing a hoof on his hip and dangerously close to his genitals before leaning over him. She didn’t give a shit if it bared more of her legs to him; left her more vulnerable to attack. Part of her wanted him to try, to see it would take more than a fucking stab from a dagger or an eldritch blast to take her down.
“No restraint,” Venus sneered, pushing an errant strand of black hair out of her face, “We are criminals, not pigs. If all you are going to do is act like a stupid pig, then you will be treated like a pig. Slaughtered and used for other means.”
Her partner had stayed silent until that moment, only to make the simple comment of, “I believe that would be an insult to pigs to compare him to them. They’re highly intelligent creatures.”
Brassia looked about five seconds away from shitting himself, which really, she hadn’t even started for him to look so afraid. “Bro, she’s gone nuts, you gotta stop her!!”
“It’s a little too late for that, Brassia. You know the rules, and your performance for the last year has been abyssal.” He stated simply, hands in his pockets. If it weren’t for the tight lines of anger in his shoulders and eyes, anyone may have thought he looked bored. His eyes softened when looking up at Venus, reminding her, “He will need most of his fingers and tongue as a deathlock, so please try to keep that in mind.”
“Come now, sugar,” Venus looked up from the terror on Brassia’s thin and ratlike face, “you know how good I am at restraint. I’m just going to trim… the unnecessary bits.”
The smoldering look she received from him was all the answer she needed, especially as Brassia started to babble pleas. Wordlessly he moved into position to hold Brassia down, his own dagger appearing in his hand to persuade him against unnecessary movement.
“A shame you were not closer to one of the basements, this would be much easier on all of us if I could just tie you down,” Venus stepped off of him, towering over him and watching the wet patch growing in his trousers. She tsked, towering over him, satisfied by how terrified the piece of shit was with only a few words and threats. “No restraint at all. Try not to thrash too much, I would hate for this to take longer than necessary or for you to accidentally bleed out too quickly.”
It turned out that the being formerly known as Brassia had some measure of restraint, managing to only start screaming after realizing her dagger would not stop at a finger or toe. It had taken some work and makeshift restraints to keep him still then. Venus was hardly impressed though, and he still died like a pig, squealing and bleeding out from his wounds. She took the time to wash the blood from her skin, surprised she managed to avoid getting it on the expensive silk gown.
Finally, Venus sought out the dancer Chloe, finding her and the warlock guarding her and kneeling before the shaking elf. Her partner had stayed behind to help make sure the clean up crew transported the body to the right chamber for the Mistress to have her fun with. So she knelt before Chloe, taking in her tear stained face and far away eyes, thankful she had been able to get away from him. She apologized on behalf of the Clan, before informing her that Brassia was no more and that the Clan would take care of any expenses from the night.
The words that the pig was dead brought clarity back into Chloe’s eyes, slowly looking up to meet hers. “Good,” was all she said in a small voice, before clearing her throat. “How… did he die?”
Venus blinked, but refused to look away from her eyes as she replied, “I castrated him and let him bleed out.”
Her eyes widened and she flinched slightly, before she started shaking again, “Good. Good.”
Taking in her face and body, Venus reached into her dress, pulling out her business card. “If you ever need anything done, no matter the legality of it, give me a call. I would be happy to lend you my services.”
To her credit, Chloe did not hesitate to take the card, eyes looking at her name and just a phone number under. “Thank you, Venus.”
“Of course,” she nodded, before standing and smoothing her dress and hair back into place, “We business women need to look after each other. And again, our apologies that one of our employees behaved in such a disgusting manner.” Venus glanced at the other warlock, nodding at them, “Please continue to look after her, Vanda.”
With that, she returned to the club, where Tarathiel welcomed her back into his lap without a second thought, more emboldened by the alcohol consumed. He paused briefly at the smell of blood on her, but rather than deter him, Venus was able to tell he was quite… encouraged by it. Sharing a smile with Calypso, she raised her glass to her lips and drank deep.
Perhaps it would be a good night after all.
Coffee
May 13, 2017
Venus was too tired for this shit. After a night of guarding Calypso through lengthy contract negotiations with a new supplier, all she wanted to do was go back to her Clan apartment and fall into the void of sleep. But no, Calypso wanted her to work on drafting up the fucking final form of the contract based on the changes and agreements made last night, and they wanted that done before eight. But naturally, the first chance Venus got to slip away and grab some damn coffee was during the morning rush, and the line was nearly doubled over and out the door of the Starbucks.
The poor baristas already looked worn out, and Venus had counted only three behind the counter in the minutes she had been standing in line. If the espresso in the Orchid House headquarters didn’t taste like dogshit, she would have happily removed one less customer from the line and taken herself back to the office. As it was though, she sighed and pulled out her personal phone to try and pass the time without falling asleep on her hooves. And sighed again as the customer in front of the cashier raised her voice at the barista, demanding a free upgrade since she stood in line so long.
There was a small debate in Venus’s mind if she should just keep her head down and mind her business, but in the end her own indignation at the rude bitch won out. Sliding her phone back into her suit jacket, Venus stepped out of line, mourning her spot temporarily while she moved towards the front.
Blonde Bitch was practically screeching at the done looking barista when Venus put a hand on her shoulder, firmly saying, “Ma’am, excuse me, but it is not even 7:00AM, can you please kindly shut the fuck up and just pay for your goddamn coffee so the rest of us can move on with our days?”
Whirling around, Blonde Bitch opened her mouth, then paused, looking up into Venus’s face. Venus could have chuckled at the way her eyes widened, thinking about how the fear in them would have been that much worse if she didn’t have her magical disguise pulled up. “A-and who do you think you are? I don’t care, it’s poor customer service to have to wait in line this long and they should give me that free upgrade!”
“You could have left the line at any time and gone somewhere else,” Venus’s hand on her shoulder tightened, “So, once again, pay for your fucking bean juice or I would be happy to remove you from the premises and you don’t get your vanilla bean frappe. Your choice.”
Perhaps Blonde Bitch was more observant than Venus thought, because something in her eyes said she knew not to mess with her. She turned back around and grumpily paid for whatever it was she wanted. In all the mess, the baristas had already finished her drink, and handed it to her with a look of discomfort. Blonde Bitch made a quick escape, looking redder than a burnt tomato.
The cashier opened their mouth, a grateful look on their face, and Venus just held up her hand, “Glad to help, no thanks needed.” And without another word, she turned back around to try and find her old place in line, willing to be mean about it to reclaim it.
At least, she would have, if a hand didn’t pop into her view with a hesitant, “Donovan? Donovan Flynrie?”
Freezing, her eyes followed the hand to its owner. And blinked. Blinked again, and she wanted to rub her eyes to make sure she was seeing things correctly.
“Sage?”
They grinned, and some part of Donovan that she had fought long and hard to kill for ten years lit up. “You remember me!”
Like she could forget her first big crush. Donovan almost forgot who she was, but she cleared her throat, stepping closer to them and getting a look at them. Sage Mendez looked… nine hells, she still thought they were beautiful, those brown eyes warming her more than they had a right to. The set of their broad shoulders, too, the way they carried themselves and the confidence and ease… it was obvious they were comfortable and settled in themself. Much more than they had been in high school.
Her eyes caught on an odd necklace they wore, looking almost like a shield with a dragon’s head cut out of the shining metal. Donovan didn’t remember them being into dragons, but it had been 10 years…
Clearing her throat and fighting down a blush - her, Venus, blushing? Gods the other warlocks would roast her ass - she managed to get out, “I’m surprised you recognized me.”
They laughed, the only person in the entire Starbucks capable of laughing at such a godsforsaken hour, “There are only so many people that tall and willing to take on a rude customer for others.” Sage moved aside, allowing her into the line with them, “How have you been? I haven’t seen you since… has it really been since 2007?”
“2007, yeah,” Donovan smiled, and such a genuine smile felt… weird on her face. “I’ve been getting by, how about you?”
The quick once-over they gave her did not go unnoticed, and even though she was used to it, something about them being the one to check her out... “It looks like you’ve been doing more than just getting by, Donovan.”
The cashier cleared their throat, reminding both of them that they were in a public space. Sage insisted on paying for her coffee, eyebrows rising at the number of shots of espresso in her americano.
As the two of them waited together, Donovan couldn’t help but ask, “What are you doing in the Financial District on a Saturday morning?”
They shifted, one heavily muscled arm rising to play with one of their earrings, “I volunteer at a church when I’m not working at the clinic. People come for some medical attention or counseling… and I’m happy to give it for those that need it desperately.”
Sage took her eyes widening for something other than the sinking feeling in her gut, quickly holding up their hands, “It’s not much or a big church at all, but there’s good people there and we focus a lot on community involvement and justice for the underrepresented.”
“I see,” Donovan didn’t know why she felt so badly, guilt settling into her gut. “That’s amazing, I’m glad to hear you’ve found your place.”
Their grin was almost blinding, especially at an early hour after no sleep, “I did. But what about you?”
Shrugging, Donovan fixed her sleeves and tie, absentmindedly grabbing her coffee, “I work for some hedge fund managers, helping to keep their offices organized. Nothing much.”
“They have you working on a Saturday?” Their brow wrinkled, “Explains the suit too.”
She laughed at that, taking a bracing sip of caffeine that had her feeling better already. “Yeah, my bosses expect a lot from their employees and I have some paperwork that cannot wait.”
“I see,” their eyes almost looked sympathetic. “Sounds rough.” There was a pause as they grabbed their coffee as well, before they blurted out, “Do you have any plans for tonight?”
Against all odds, Donovan almost choked on her drink. “Uh, I think so, for once.”
Turning red, Sage shyly asked, “Would you maybe want to catch up more over some food tonight? I know a really good sushi spot in Soho, if that’s not too out of the way for you…”
Surely she was asleep and dreaming, “How about 6?”
“Perfect,” their grin returned in full force, causing her heart to thunder and heat her face, “It’s a date! What’s your number so I can text you the details and location?”
Oh, she was in so much trouble if even now their smile had her head over hooves. Donovan quickly gave them her personal number, smiling and straightening the collar of their shirt before she even realized what she was doing. “I’ll see you then, sugar.”
Little did Donovan know she would be thinking about them the rest of the day, barely finishing the contract revisions by the deadline Calypso gave her and quickly finishing other odd bits. Even when she returned to her apartment to nap and get ready all she could think of was her memories of them, dusting them off from where she hadn’t even realized she had kept them.
And when their date went better than she could have ever hoped, leaving her laughing until she nearly cried over how many pieces of sushi they could fit in both of their mouths, only then did she finally believe that she wasn’t dreaming about the day. Especially not when Sage had carefully pulled her down to press a kiss to her cheek, smelling like the sushi they had both devoured and a hint of honey and marshmallow… and well, the red kiss mark on her cheek from their lipstick when she saw herself in the mirror later.
That was when she knew she was in danger of loving them even more than she had in high school. And that she shouldn’t let them get any closer, not when they were the opposite of everything she was these days. But she couldn’t help but text them late that night, already planning their next date, smiling at the screen and the emojis they sent her. Donovan was stupid to allow herself to, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. Not when it felt so right.
She only hoped they never found out what she had become.
Transcript One
CLASSIFIED
A Perfectly Normal Morning
Annoyingly on time, her alarm cut through the final words of her dream, setting her mind scrambling for consciousness even as her body reflexively reached for the button to turn the damn thing off. She slapped her hand against the nightstand before giving up, opening one watery eye to find the offending piece of technology and firmly telling it to kindly shut the fuck up with the palm of her hand. Grabbing her flip phone from it’s spot next to the alarm and rolling back over, Donovan allowed herself another moment to close her eyes, chasing after the memory of a too-kind dream of a too-kind smile and too-kind words. She scrubbed at her wet cheeks, annoyed that she had been crying in her sleep yet again.
Looking down at the ghost plushie still curled in her one arm, she gave it a lop-sided smile, “Well, nothing will change if I just lay here crying and feeling sorry for myself, will it, Sage?”
Saying she’ll get up and actually getting herself up from the coziness of her bed was another matter entirely, and it was a struggle of wills that Donovan eventually conquered, swinging her hoofs onto the rug beside her bed and rising. Pressing her fingers to her lips, then to the frame on her nightstand, Donovan whispered a quick morning prayer to Bahamut, a sense of calm running over her. The rugs at least managed to muffle the sounds of her hooves as she made her way to her tiny coffee pot, preparing the grounds and water as she always did and setting it up to start the day right with at least one cup of coffee. A quick trip to the bathroom as she checked through her emails on her tiny flip phone screen showed nothing of note, aside from an email from Aktho sent at the ungodly hour of 3AM, telling her about another stack of records he had managed to find locked in some abandoned part of the temple that no one has touched for decades, along with an offer of making her a “super veggie smoothie” to help her get all those nutrients he claims she’s lacking in her normal diet. Shooting off what was supposed to be a quick response that she would get to the records and that she did not need a smoothie would have taken her a couple of seconds on any other phone, but the painstaking way she had to cycle through the letters to spell each word made her feel like she was back in high school.
Response sent and bathroom matters taken care of, it was a short trip into her closet to pick out her workout gear, sliding the material on with a wrinkled nose and a note to herself to do laundry soon. Coffee ready by the time she reentered the living space of her apartment, she poured it into one of her two mugs and began chugging, the scalding liquid sliding down her throat more soothing than she cared to admit. Then she turned to the curtained windows and sighed. Even after all this time, her heart rate picked up without her consent as she opened the curtains, the weak light of dawn barely illuminating anything. Reflexively her eyes scanned the street before her, taking note of all the places where shadows lingered before Donovan allowed herself to breathe again and let go of her amulet.
“Nothing’s there. Never is,” Donovan murmurs to no one. But still, the mix of relief and disappointment she feels is all too real.
Donovan grabbed a cigarette and lighter before hauling the window open and leaning out, sticking the cigarette between her lips and holding the small flame to the end of it. The first inhale of nicotine in the morning was always the best, and she breathed in deep, feeling the smoke fill her lungs and keeping it there for a moment before releasing it into the air of Dead End. Watching the swirls of smoke drift into nothingness, she forced herself to think of nothing aside from the present. She was alive and here, and that was enough. It really wasn’t, but maybe if she told herself it was enough times she would start to believe it.
Too soon her cigarette was done, Donovan extinguishing it with a bit of water from the tap before throwing the butt in the trash. She chugged a glass of water and quickly brushed her teeth, hoping that would get rid of the taste of the cigarette from her mouth. No putting off her morning jog any longer, though she did pause by the door, carefully tucking her dagger into the waistband of her running shorts while grabbing her zune and ear buds. Dead End may be slightly safer than NYC, but that wasn’t saying much at all. Her eyes met her own in the mirror near the door, glancing at the amulet laying against her breasts before hiding it under her sports bra. Then with a quick peek outside the peephole to confirm the empty hallway, she walked out of her apartment and pushed the door closed behind her. Even if the space was liminal, Donovan could not stop the instinct to check to make sure it was locked.
With a deep breath and a straightening of her shoulders, she walked out of her apartment building, eyes once again glancing at all of the dark spots she memorized months ago. Thankfully, there was a shortcut to her favorite park nearby, and she enjoyed the relative peace and quiet of the early morning despite the number of people on the streets. Donovan knew there was an even shorter route to the park, but even after a couple of months are various people showing her how to use the lay lines to get around, she preferred to get a bit of a walk in before her run.
Her stretches to warm up once she got to the park caught the eye of an antlered fae passing by, and Donovan couldn’t help but wink at the attractive fae as they dragged their eyes over her, interest piqued, but not enough to stop their own jog. Not for the first time, she silently cursed that she had missed out on the Beltane festivities. Then stopped, trying to think of the last time she got laid in a wonder of why the hell one fae ogling her made her think of such things. Ah, yup, that time at the bar and then the hotel afterward… Damn good times. She might have to go out again and see if she could get lucky a second time. Another face passed through her mind, and not the one with those piercing eyes from that hookup, and it was like an ice bath to her hormones. Nope. She was good. But damn, what a night.
Jogging along the dirt path to avoid the shock of cobblestones to her joints, Donovan frowned in disappointment when she passed by the usual spots where Amor would sit on their bench or practice with their staff. It had been a while since they hadn’t come to the park, but maybe they had stayed up late to work on an experiment again. They did mention something about being close to a breakthrough the other day… She might try to stop by and check on them later if she had a chance to make sure they weren’t face first in some herbs or potion. Then again, Ray might get to them first.
Gods - Bahamut - those two. Had she ever been that oblivious once?
Maybe. But she didn’t want to think about that right now, not when there was fire and air in her lungs and dirt under her hooves. ‘Keep moving forward, Donny love’. Perhaps if she repeated that enough times, she’d be able to do that too. Again, easier said than done.
Soon there was more fire than air in her, though, and she forced herself into a walk, hands on her hips as she panted to try and get more oxygen into her starving body and stop her legs from shaking. A couple concerned joggers passed by her, glancing back, but Donovan waved them on as she fought to catch her breath and continue on. Almost as devastating as anything else the past two years had done to her was the condition of her body. Once a finely honed weapon, now reduced to a weak mess that could barely run for longer than a couple of minutes even after months of endurance training. It was shameful, and she could only imagine the expressions on their faces if they saw how weak she was now.
Keep moving forward. That was enough. And she had promised to Dr. Weber to not push herself.
Well, too hard, at least.
Donovan finished her jog, wishing she could turn the Jimi Hendrix playing on her zune all the way up without worry to drown out her thoughts. But sadly, we was an attractive woman jogging on her own, and her own instincts being raised in a big city would always win over the desire to destroy her hearing. Soaked in sweat, she took the liminal path to her apartment, carefully glancing at those dark spots before even approaching the building and once more before entering.
The hot water of her shower helped to wash away any unpleasant thoughts, forcing herself to think only positive things, try to be kind to herself, all those things Aruniel and Aktho had tried to tell her when she was first recovering. And despite everything, the scent of her orchid body wash always managed to calm her down. Even better was the fluffy towel she wrapped herself in as she carefully stepped out of the shower and her beauty routine of drying and straightening her curls, shaping her bangs just so around her horns. The various oils she used on her hair, horns, and skin a small pampering she allowed herself. The red lipstick was almost second nature by now, the mascara even easier to apply.
With her beauty routine done, she went to her closet, throwing the towel in with the dirty laundry that she really should do soon and went to grab her standard clothing. Donovan paused, hand on the black suit jacket, before glancing at one of the suits Dame had gifted her. She’d only worn the perfectly tailored pinstripe jacket and corseted skirt once, trying it on for Rend’s sister to make sure it fit and if any adjustments would have to be made for the clothing line. There weren’t nearly as many pockets, but… Fuck it. Might as well go over the top, she always got looks on the street as it was.
She definitely did make a cutting figure in the mirror, quickly opting from her usual braids for a single slicked-back ponytail, before teasing her fringe back out to make her look a little less like she was about to take part in a sexist perfume ad. Sighing at herself as she turned to check out the way the cut of the jacket and skirt showed off the curve of her ass and tail, she had to admit that Dame definitely knew what she was doing. If only she had someone to take naughty pictures for…
“Ah yes, nothing like ass pictures taken on a shitty flip phone to oil those gears,” she mumbled to no one but herself. “Holy fuck, Flynrie, skipping a couple of steps before we can get to sending nudes to anyone. Calm your horny self down.” Oh, how she missed her old phone and its camera. So many possibilities.
A final longing sigh at the mirror, and she grabbed all of her essentials, stuffing them into her pockets and then her bra when her pockets filled up. Her salami sandwich in hand, she once more checked the hallway before leaving her apartment. Another tense moment as she exited the building, scanning before letting out a semi-constricted breath.
It was just another, perfectly normal morning, for a perfectly normal cleric receptionist.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
Comments