Shelter from the storm! Visell and Dedestra become a couple! Pt. 6
Darkness, visions of blood and hatred, A cold empty bleak dark, the subtle roar of water, then the sound of music.
GASP!
Visell springs up. Her breathing ragged and steep. A warm sensation at her feet, the stickiness of drying water on her skin. Her eyes fixate on crimson, but a different kind. Some dozen or so blood-red roses wrapped neatly in a beige parchment.
Her mind is called again to a familiar melody, played delicately on electric keys along with a soft humming.
Her eyes call to Dedestra setting poised and proper at her keyboard softly swaying as she hums trying her hardest not to sing. Visel relaxes and starts to sing softly with her as the last few bars of the song play out.
They sit in silence for a second. " Geez, I haven't heard that cut in ages! Didn't know you knew how to play it." Visell says with enthusiasm, trying to break the tension. Dedestra stares down at her keyboard. "I had quite a lot of time to learn it properly during my time in the seed forest. Ahem! Thank you for showing it to me. Apologies I couldn't live up to those expectations at the time." Visell scoffs. "Dude, It's all good. Lotta crazy crap happened. You play it pretty freaking good too!" Dedestra sighs. "You flatter me but there are still too many mistakes for my liking and I can barely play it at full tempo." " But you're getting better! That's what matters! I bet you'll be shredding again in no time!" Dedestra snickers a bit. "Deepest thanks."
Visell looks down at the bouquet in her lap. "No problem!" Her eyes drift to notice she's in her bra in panties. She blushes and looks over to notice Dedestra in her underwear as well. She covers herself frantically! "Dude! did you undress me!" "Oh, I wanted to, but I figured I'd receive this reception and I've had quite enough stress today, so I had my acolytes do it." "Somehow that's worse. I wouldn't have minded if you did it! I trust you!" "Well, you are combative and unpredictable. But that’s why I have my notes." She says as she slides her small tattered notebook to her lap and jots down some reminders.
Visell lowers her guard. She hangs her head. "So, are we going to talk about that stuff?" "Yes, we have much to discuss." Dedestra stands up from her piano stool and softly shuffles over to Visell and kneels beside her. Visell notices incense burning on her dresser, pictures of her mother and brother surround the half-burnt stick. Dedestra pours how water into a small steamer, a puff of steam spreads the smell of citrus around the room. Dedestra takes a deep breath. Visell stares at her knees, waiting for her heart to break. "Now in regards to you trapesing around with that harlot."
Visell tenses, preparing herself.
"How much did that tramp suffer?"
Visell’s eyes spring up in surprise. "Huh!?" Dedestra quickly straddles her. She grasps her hands, Her Icy glare spearing down. "How much did that whore of no virtue suffer!? Did she scream, did she plead for her miserable little life, how you mangle her worthless body!? Look me in the eyes and tell me." Visel blushes profusely! "Uh, sure thing."
Dedestra sits neatly over Visell's lap waiting in anticipation.
"So first thing. To be honest I didn't know if I wanted to kill her. I was willing to give her a chance to turn her dumbass in! Then she tried to get over on a bitch! Then I got angry as hell and the Yams kicked it . . . She tried to run so I found my way to the main elevator. As soon as the doors open I stabbed that lazy cunt! Before she could even say or do some slick shit, I hit clean laybackz into her arms and legs." Dedestra's heart flutters! " Then she had this scared-ass look on her face! I hit a prayer for that bitch just to piss her off! I saw all that big talk and flashing peel way while her ambitions pooled under my feet!" Dedestra feels a rush of passion! She topples Visell over and perches on top of her! Her breathing becomes heavy! Visell stares up nervously! "Geez what the!? Dedestra’s hand trails around Visell’s figure and up to caress her face; staring longingly into her eyes. "Symown! Please continue! Shiver trails down her stomach to her thighs. Visell tries to find a way out of Dedestra’s lustful clutch! She studders. "Well, then I uh . . ." Dedestra eyes shoot down at her making her more nervous! " Symown, please tell me more!" She slowly leans over! Visel struggles to remember. Her eyes widen!
"Then I spit in her face!"
Dedestra freezes and stares at Visell. A slow snicker collects in her chest, turns into a chuckle, and then to a laugh! Visell looks up in confusion, hearing her laugh so loud is unnerving! "You spat in her face!? What a cold and utterly beautifully disrespectful gesture!" She continues laughing! Visell's confusion turns to a smirk and snicker. "Yeah, and she looked mad as shit when I did it! then she said some bullshit like "Imma fuck you in hell! Then I was like I bet you still couldn't make me cum then I flipped that bitch off!" Visell cracks a hardy laugh slowly noticing that Dedestra has stopped laughing. Dedestra glares with an earnest and concerned look then dismounts from Visell and kneels beside her. Visel perks up "W-What's up?" Dedestra hangs her hand. "Would you like to discuss that? Ahem . . . the coercion I mean." Visell turns to think for a second. "Not really. I know I didn't like It and I don't want to think about it. Honestly, I just want to move on from it. Ch! I mean, I was kinda just numb half the time, and the other half it hurt like a bitch and was shitty! Just mean and cold. I don't ever want anyone to touch me like that again."
She turns to Dedestra "Do you need to talk about anything? I know I murked those ProZu clowns a long time 'go! But I know that doesn't . . . change much." Dedestra hangs her head in contemplation- her head springs up. "No, I rather not either; It feels like another lifetime now quite frankly. Though the latest man that sought to force himself on me ended up with 9 bullet holes in his chest. But that was years ago as well." Visel smirks "Well, Damn Cowboy!" Dedestra snickers "I hope that's not my new nickname!" "Nah, Nah! That's not even cute!" Dedestra sighs in relief, "Good!" Dedestra pours more water into the steamer. The smell of citrus reintroduces itself.
A silence falls again.
"When I was in the seed forest, I was terrified and filled with regret and anguish. I felt like I had betrayed you; I felt like a coward. I had conceded my home, my family, my friend . . . my love. And the young lady that helped me abscond to the commune ran off with some boy to HI-LO City soon after. I was cordially welcomed yet still so isolated. I performed my duties and assisted where I could but wasn't fulfilled. One day I just wandered off on the path aimlessly. Hoping maybe to find a purpose, a treasure, maybe you'd had sent some missionaries to contact me or would have approached me yourself. Making it as easy as possible, I suppose. I thank you for respecting my sovereignty, by the way. But then, I had found a little boy not even 10 years of age, sitting in a clearing, 2-3 books by his side.
He noticed my approach; he didn't run or cry he greeted me with a grand smile on his face.
He told he was referred to as Pumpkin, and yet he surreptitiously preferred his given name, but It was too hard for Bonshegii speakers to pronounce properly." She snickers. "He wouldn't tell me his real name till he could trust me and made me promise I would reframe from laughing if he told me. I had sat with him and we mused about Othello and Marx. Such a precocious little gentleman he was! He . . . he told me he was running from his father . . . at least for a time yet knew he would eventually have to return. I . . . I empathized with that. After discovering he lived at the commune, I tried my best to check on him and care for him.
Especially after . . . that night . . . when I found him at the base of a steep hill. I rushed him to the infirmary. . . his spine had been fractured and he lost the use of his legs. I spent the next 3 weeks with my comrade Benjamin doting on him while he was comatose. I barely ate. Then one afternoon saw his eyes open to me . . . and he smiled! Even after tearfully informing him of his condition, he didn't break or fold. He struggled but he was willing to brave forward in life! He reminded me a little of you . . . he desired me to remain at his side and I had already made up my mind." Dedestra softly massages her fingers over the healed scar on her naval.
"I promised to protect him and further my mission of finding a will to live. I knew there was some sort of foul play at work, he certainly was never the kind of child to get himself into dire situations and he seemed more adamant than before to avoid his father- who claimed it must've been an accident, I didn't believe him. While I was tending to him that evening, I saw a little air of nervousness on his face! When I asked what troubled him, He told me he wanted to convey a secret to me. He added that I couldn't tell a soul. My heart sank; I thought he was confessing a formal indictment! I might have been prepared to kill that day . . ." she sighs. "He whispered in my ear, and went bright red! He . . . told me his real name, his given name . . ." she says with longing.
"I embraced him and told him I loved his name. Burying my face into his shoulder to suppress my laughter, mind you. But I do love his name. I became his primary caretaker that day forth and he was filled with such joy! Meeting him transformed me, Symown. Knowing you, transformed me. I can't . . . I can't return to being the girl I was! I couldn't bear it! I don't want her names, I don't want her struggles or her body! I reject them! So yes, Symown! I crave to change with you! I want you to help bury my past! I want to . . . commit every facet of this new being to you and you alone!" She grabs her hand and holds it. "But If we should continue in the manner you suggest . . . Then . . . I need you to call me by a name that's sentimental, a name I won't reject, a name without the poison of her! A name . . . that's pure." Visell stares at her with awe-filled passion, she blushes.
Symown! I want you . . . to call me . . .
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