The Trade
On that cab drive, though brief, the long-lasting struggle Chase had endured was given in summary before the eyes of her little Loo, the helpful young lady that had crowned her to be the loyal elder sister. There were horrible tremors that made those eyes glaze over in a daft stare into nothing, only to flutter wildly into panicked breath. It was a terrible sickness, this occupation of that Goddess Scorned. The cab stopped, and Chase looked listless while gazing at the seat in front of her. She felt very ill. Nearly ill to the point of fainting. "I dunno... How long I can stay like this, mate... I feel downright sh*tty. Like a wet towel on the floor with mold all over it, schway...I feel rotten." And she might have been just that. Rotted over with illness.
"Ain't much longer. Just..." 'Lanta noticed the cabbie's apprehensive look. Neither the district they were in nor the place they were in front of came with the best reputation, and Chase's condition probably wasn't helping. "Just a second more..." She spoke to both as she tossed fare and a tip to the driver, and then exited to get to the Gypo's side. When she had the woman positioned, she got her up and got the door closed. The cabbie didn't miss a beat. He jetted out, leaving the unlikely pair in front of an unassuming gray-stone building. It looked dank, it looked dilapidated, but it didn't look scary. However, the face the cambion was making at it proved it had her at least a little nervous.
Chase had an empty stare before she was picked up. A near violent reaction had her flinch out of Atalanta's grasp before collapsing right back into it. She coughed loudly, and felt nauseated. Her opposing hand came to her stomach. A smothering migraine began to set in, and she winced whenever any sound occurred. Speech became nails on a chalkboard, and she covered one ear with a cupped hand. "Yeah, yeah... I'm movin'... Can y'keep it down?" As if Lanta was screaming to the high heavens directly into her ear. The Goddess was at work to take places. To take supremacy once again.
She muttered out a 'sorry' and sucked in a heavy breath. Couldn't stop. She had to keep reminding herself of that. With a protective arm curled around the Gypo's middle, she led the way up to the steel door carved into the lower left corner of the building's face, the black paint flaking off in big pieces. There wasn't a code, a secret knock, or a sliding panel to speak to; they let you make the decision, and with the Gypsy fading fast, she made theirs. She pushed down the handle and pulled the door back, orienting Chase in first, before angling herself after. The door swung shut the minute she released the handle, pushing them further into the torch-lit hall. From somewhere in the building, a bass line thumped out, like a heartbeat.
Chase's hand squeezed into her skull, the one that protected that pierced ear. She was hissing out pain. Her body was misbehaving, malfunctioning, in all sorts of minor ways to inflict debilitating pain. Her walk was so slow, including many pauses. But she kept striding onward, just between those grunts and groans of agony. She managed to get a glimpse around and chuckled weakly in a croak. "We goin' into some sorta dungeon?" It was half a joke, half a question.
"Ain't far from i--" The hall twisted, and just around the bend, the pathway opened up into a dimly lit common area. There were tables and couches seemingly scattered around the circular bar. There were no boothes or curtains, but the extremely low lighting kept it feeling somewhat constricted, with certain corners bathed by red bulbs that made them glow eeriely from a distance. The thumping persisted, but it became evident that they were on the wrong floor for it, as it seemed to come up from under their feet. People and creatures littered the furniture every which way the girls looked, engaged with bottles, drugs, food, and overt sex acts. But this was nothing and she knew it. The cambion fixed her sights on the bar and dragged Chase over, while the bald man with the mohawk of stubby horns stared them down from behind it.
Those displays of desire made her eyes flutter wildly. Fuel to a dangerous fire seeking to burn her from the inside out. Her body temperature had jumped to that of a near hot-to-the-touch and her sighs of pain were joined by dim exertions of rebellion. She was fighting to stay, but she was being pulled. Illness was replaced from her inalienable right to be what she was. But she lowered herself onto a stool, head down on the bar while palms touched the surface in ferocious gropes and strokes. She was doing her best to stay docile, in this place of outright desire. So much release to be obliged. She could not. It was not the time.
The cambion grappled with it, too, but she'd thankfully already developed a slight bit of control. She was grateful when Chase sat down and relieved her of at least one stressor, but the demon was still staring at the pair of them. He had mastered a look between bored and prying. When he noticed her eyeing back, he looked a little put-off.
?Mongrel.? It had been in Hellspeak, but that was the polite translation. So she worked with it. ?What you want?? His Common was halting and ugly.
?Came to trade.?
?You got good nothings.? Still, he looked vaguely interested in Chase. It was always so hard to tell with them.
?You ain?t the right judge.? She gave him her best derisive tone. Then paused. ?Has to be someone strong. And quick.?
He looked surprised at her voice, but she had slipped. She had shown a little desperation. He smiled wide and grotesque. And laughed, while he turned around. Just as she slammed her hands down on the bar to call after him, though, he pointed to the side and kept walking to a waving hand.
The toxic plumes of lust and worship and build-up of desire was a beautifully lit storm of temptations. Light and wisps she could just reach for and gain. Even as herself, Chase was still as susceptible while the Other slept. There was a burning magnetism that crackled at her very vertebrae. She was writhing on that bar top, those contortionist habits twisting and arching in ways one couldn't fathom as painless. For her, it was. Chase was beginning to pant, feeling warmer and warmer against that slab of polished wood. "Loo? Hey Loo? We gotta hurry?" She reached for her sister and ran her fingers up her arm, searching for skin to touch. Mindlessly, it was calling out to her.
Chase didn't have to struggle for long. The half-breed reached down to offer her an arm, two types of support intended. The club was still trying to gnaw at both of them and letting the Gypo leech off of her was mutually beneficial. Once her sister was gathered, she hoisted her up and walked them as fast as she could to the wall the bartender had indicated. That's all it was, though. A wall. "Oh, are you..." The Infernal tongue lurched up as she ducked her head around to find where it was they were going. Were they waiting? Was he kidding? As her patience stretched thin with the weight of the moment, a sharp whistle drew her attention over her shoulder. The demon was leaning on the counter, with a claw extended towards a black-out curtain stretched out ahead of them. It had been hiding in plain sight. As she led them towards the slit up the middle, she could hear him chuckling openly, and it made her face a hot red.
First there were colors. Beautiful sleds of sparks and fiery lines and curves. Atalanta was held, caressed, and cherished with her hands that were less than noble in intentions often times. The migraine was crushing at her brain, and only got the slightest amount of relief the seconds she felt warm flesh. And the comfort of it being someone trusted like that Lanta made it more relieving. But it wasn't enough. They had begun to walk and those steps were like walking on a trampoline. She felt vertigo, but would use Lanta as her fleshy compass of where up actually was. Lips came to moan into skin with that suppression, and that wooziness the Other was inflicting on her. It was getting far worse.
The heat from her Sister was bearable. It was her panic that had her sweating. She tried to get herself in order, because behind that slit, there was another metal door, one that did require knocking. She pulled in a deep breath through her nose and dropped her heavy fist against it twice. The wait seemed torturous, though it probably only lasted the span of thirty seconds before the opened door was blocked by a creature much shorter than them. It had the face and hair of a woman, but past the bare breasts, her jaundiced skin led to a serpent's body.
Chase wasn't seeing straight whatsoever. And it was getting infested with this rot that was coming from the place they were entering. The scent burned her nostrils, made her eyes nearly flare in wild seas. The yellowy flesh was picked up on and given a blonde glow that reminded her of broken gold. She was against her sister, kneading those sides and rubbing as if the two would melt into one with enough slow friction. She was hissing, and gaining ankles close to that of gelatin.
Rot, indeed. The stench of brimstone was strong, lurking beneath sweat and shame. She couldn't tell if they were used for intimidation or if there was just no way to mask them when they were so concentrated. There was a faint aroma of perfume, something heady and spiced, but it was hardly enough to comfort. The creature looked at them with eyes that seemed all pupils, making it impossible to tell just which one the voids were settled on, and before 'Lanta could state their quest, she moved. She only left the narrow opening for the girls, though, forcing 'Lanta to put in some distance so she could move ahead to lead.
Rickety ankles dragged the raggedy Annes of legs. Slap-dashed staggers along with a brain that felt as if it were microwaved and frozen on the inside. Tattooed skin uselessly sat and stretched and tightened with muscular reaction. ?Hurry? I?m gettin? antsy... I can?t? Hurry... I?m gettin? antsy. I can?t...? Repeated horridly while losing the grip of her position of power, Chase felt those loose roots being plucked, vein by vein to be replaced with stronger, more dominant reigns. She galloped sloppily in defiance when she felt herself slipping away, trapped in the confinement of the tunnel around them. ?I can feel it.. Come on, Loo? We gotta hurry.. I?m gettin? antsy??
"Gonna need ya to be quiet." 'Lanta hissed over her shoulder to Chase. The move afforded a look over to the serpent woman trailing them. "Just...lemme do the talkin'." She kept her voice real low and turned to face ahead. Just in through the door, they were funneled into a claustrophobic foyer where the ceiling hung down over their heads, like a drapery that seemed a little too solid. It was balmy and dark, but with a few brisk steps, they entered into a circular room that afforded more headspace but not too much more in the way of width. The main chamber had more light filtering in, too--though 'Lanta couldn't quite figure out from where--which helped the girls really take in the mottled red-grey color of the walls, ceiling, and floor. It was even more humid here and 'Lanta swore she saw moisture on the surfaces, which made her feel like she was in the guts of some great beast. Hell, it even started to feel like it was pulsating. She swallowed and pulled Chase back towards her side. Ahead of them, past a stretch of bare space, they were waiting. Two seated and one standing, the whole lot on the opposite end of a surprisingly simple table. She noticed that their chairs were high-backed and rather cushy looking.
The ones left open for her and Chase were skeletal in comparison. She brought the Gypo closer, careful about revealing just how heavily the other woman was leaning on her; her seemingly sure steps stopped, however, when she realized that they farther they inched in, the colder it got. She had to keep herself from wincing. Too late. They already noticed the pause. By the time she got the Gypo to a chair, the temperature had dropped enough to produce shivers. Her skin ached all over.
Cold. Cold. Cold. She was feeling relief at the cold. Her fever was out of control. She always had a fever, granted, but she had skyrocketed to a near boiling point in her blood. The frigidness gave her relief, and the implanted fever dreams were becoming ravenous in nature and more and more vivid. But that cold. That coolness had her sigh. And she could barely notice anything else but that cool. Was that red? It was all over the place. Where was Loo? She could hardly see what was and wasn?t anymore. Loo had to have been somewhere, and she saw scissor whips and fiery storms of burning ribbons that danced in her very own eyes. She began to fall out of it, reluctantly, and not only saw a Loo, but many Loos spinning around each other. Chase?s hands shot to her face, and she tried to stay straight. A fierce crack shot through her neck, allowing her to stand in proper to look formally shaped. She stood upright rigidly, but her neck and arms may as well have been underwater with murky shifts and twists.
Seeing her sister start to writhe more, she gently guided the Gypo in front of a chair and set her hands on either shoulder. Sit. She ignored the other seat and stayed standing behind. She could hear the scales winding up behind them, but she kept her eyes trained forward.
The guardian of the other seated pair was appropriately large. He had a face like a bulldog with his lower jaw jutting out past his nose, and small peg-like teeth that protruded up. His skin was dark, his chest broad and bare with his arms across it. He had gnarled curls which trailed every which way, bat wing ears, and a too slender waist. She couldn?t see his legs, but she could see hints of a tail. He stared at them with eyes the same color of his skin?in fact, she could only tell they were open now because she saw the startlingly white fold of skin cover them up briefly before rolling back. ?Lanta thought he might speak, but for the moment, everything was quiet.
Her spine was a hooked faucet downward. Like a slithering snake sans the slithering noises. The tattoos on her skin practically swam against the tanned hue of the sun-kissed demeanor. But they were not moving. Or were they? The quiet made her breathing frenzy seem deafening, but the cold swelling around was solace. She leaned against the backrest of the chair in a throwing rigidity, enjoying the temperature she found there in a deadly coil. The silence was beginning to kill her. Well, it was really the Other inside trying to kill her from the inside out. She was trying to put her in so much pain that she would give in again and let her take siege of the dominating facet of the two. "What do I have to do...?" Spoken to the key figures in the room. Spoken to them all. She needed answers, now. There was no more time. And Chase was on borrowed time. Soon, she would onto a borrowed life. "Just tell me... Please? What do y'need?"
On that cab drive, though brief, the long-lasting struggle Chase had endured was given in summary before the eyes of her little Loo, the helpful young lady that had crowned her to be the loyal elder sister. There were horrible tremors that made those eyes glaze over in a daft stare into nothing, only to flutter wildly into panicked breath. It was a terrible sickness, this occupation of that Goddess Scorned. The cab stopped, and Chase looked listless while gazing at the seat in front of her. She felt very ill. Nearly ill to the point of fainting. "I dunno... How long I can stay like this, mate... I feel downright sh*tty. Like a wet towel on the floor with mold all over it, schway...I feel rotten." And she might have been just that. Rotted over with illness.
"Ain't much longer. Just..." 'Lanta noticed the cabbie's apprehensive look. Neither the district they were in nor the place they were in front of came with the best reputation, and Chase's condition probably wasn't helping. "Just a second more..." She spoke to both as she tossed fare and a tip to the driver, and then exited to get to the Gypo's side. When she had the woman positioned, she got her up and got the door closed. The cabbie didn't miss a beat. He jetted out, leaving the unlikely pair in front of an unassuming gray-stone building. It looked dank, it looked dilapidated, but it didn't look scary. However, the face the cambion was making at it proved it had her at least a little nervous.
Chase had an empty stare before she was picked up. A near violent reaction had her flinch out of Atalanta's grasp before collapsing right back into it. She coughed loudly, and felt nauseated. Her opposing hand came to her stomach. A smothering migraine began to set in, and she winced whenever any sound occurred. Speech became nails on a chalkboard, and she covered one ear with a cupped hand. "Yeah, yeah... I'm movin'... Can y'keep it down?" As if Lanta was screaming to the high heavens directly into her ear. The Goddess was at work to take places. To take supremacy once again.
She muttered out a 'sorry' and sucked in a heavy breath. Couldn't stop. She had to keep reminding herself of that. With a protective arm curled around the Gypo's middle, she led the way up to the steel door carved into the lower left corner of the building's face, the black paint flaking off in big pieces. There wasn't a code, a secret knock, or a sliding panel to speak to; they let you make the decision, and with the Gypsy fading fast, she made theirs. She pushed down the handle and pulled the door back, orienting Chase in first, before angling herself after. The door swung shut the minute she released the handle, pushing them further into the torch-lit hall. From somewhere in the building, a bass line thumped out, like a heartbeat.
Chase's hand squeezed into her skull, the one that protected that pierced ear. She was hissing out pain. Her body was misbehaving, malfunctioning, in all sorts of minor ways to inflict debilitating pain. Her walk was so slow, including many pauses. But she kept striding onward, just between those grunts and groans of agony. She managed to get a glimpse around and chuckled weakly in a croak. "We goin' into some sorta dungeon?" It was half a joke, half a question.
"Ain't far from i--" The hall twisted, and just around the bend, the pathway opened up into a dimly lit common area. There were tables and couches seemingly scattered around the circular bar. There were no boothes or curtains, but the extremely low lighting kept it feeling somewhat constricted, with certain corners bathed by red bulbs that made them glow eeriely from a distance. The thumping persisted, but it became evident that they were on the wrong floor for it, as it seemed to come up from under their feet. People and creatures littered the furniture every which way the girls looked, engaged with bottles, drugs, food, and overt sex acts. But this was nothing and she knew it. The cambion fixed her sights on the bar and dragged Chase over, while the bald man with the mohawk of stubby horns stared them down from behind it.
Those displays of desire made her eyes flutter wildly. Fuel to a dangerous fire seeking to burn her from the inside out. Her body temperature had jumped to that of a near hot-to-the-touch and her sighs of pain were joined by dim exertions of rebellion. She was fighting to stay, but she was being pulled. Illness was replaced from her inalienable right to be what she was. But she lowered herself onto a stool, head down on the bar while palms touched the surface in ferocious gropes and strokes. She was doing her best to stay docile, in this place of outright desire. So much release to be obliged. She could not. It was not the time.
The cambion grappled with it, too, but she'd thankfully already developed a slight bit of control. She was grateful when Chase sat down and relieved her of at least one stressor, but the demon was still staring at the pair of them. He had mastered a look between bored and prying. When he noticed her eyeing back, he looked a little put-off.
?Mongrel.? It had been in Hellspeak, but that was the polite translation. So she worked with it. ?What you want?? His Common was halting and ugly.
?Came to trade.?
?You got good nothings.? Still, he looked vaguely interested in Chase. It was always so hard to tell with them.
?You ain?t the right judge.? She gave him her best derisive tone. Then paused. ?Has to be someone strong. And quick.?
He looked surprised at her voice, but she had slipped. She had shown a little desperation. He smiled wide and grotesque. And laughed, while he turned around. Just as she slammed her hands down on the bar to call after him, though, he pointed to the side and kept walking to a waving hand.
The toxic plumes of lust and worship and build-up of desire was a beautifully lit storm of temptations. Light and wisps she could just reach for and gain. Even as herself, Chase was still as susceptible while the Other slept. There was a burning magnetism that crackled at her very vertebrae. She was writhing on that bar top, those contortionist habits twisting and arching in ways one couldn't fathom as painless. For her, it was. Chase was beginning to pant, feeling warmer and warmer against that slab of polished wood. "Loo? Hey Loo? We gotta hurry?" She reached for her sister and ran her fingers up her arm, searching for skin to touch. Mindlessly, it was calling out to her.
Chase didn't have to struggle for long. The half-breed reached down to offer her an arm, two types of support intended. The club was still trying to gnaw at both of them and letting the Gypo leech off of her was mutually beneficial. Once her sister was gathered, she hoisted her up and walked them as fast as she could to the wall the bartender had indicated. That's all it was, though. A wall. "Oh, are you..." The Infernal tongue lurched up as she ducked her head around to find where it was they were going. Were they waiting? Was he kidding? As her patience stretched thin with the weight of the moment, a sharp whistle drew her attention over her shoulder. The demon was leaning on the counter, with a claw extended towards a black-out curtain stretched out ahead of them. It had been hiding in plain sight. As she led them towards the slit up the middle, she could hear him chuckling openly, and it made her face a hot red.
First there were colors. Beautiful sleds of sparks and fiery lines and curves. Atalanta was held, caressed, and cherished with her hands that were less than noble in intentions often times. The migraine was crushing at her brain, and only got the slightest amount of relief the seconds she felt warm flesh. And the comfort of it being someone trusted like that Lanta made it more relieving. But it wasn't enough. They had begun to walk and those steps were like walking on a trampoline. She felt vertigo, but would use Lanta as her fleshy compass of where up actually was. Lips came to moan into skin with that suppression, and that wooziness the Other was inflicting on her. It was getting far worse.
The heat from her Sister was bearable. It was her panic that had her sweating. She tried to get herself in order, because behind that slit, there was another metal door, one that did require knocking. She pulled in a deep breath through her nose and dropped her heavy fist against it twice. The wait seemed torturous, though it probably only lasted the span of thirty seconds before the opened door was blocked by a creature much shorter than them. It had the face and hair of a woman, but past the bare breasts, her jaundiced skin led to a serpent's body.
Chase wasn't seeing straight whatsoever. And it was getting infested with this rot that was coming from the place they were entering. The scent burned her nostrils, made her eyes nearly flare in wild seas. The yellowy flesh was picked up on and given a blonde glow that reminded her of broken gold. She was against her sister, kneading those sides and rubbing as if the two would melt into one with enough slow friction. She was hissing, and gaining ankles close to that of gelatin.
Rot, indeed. The stench of brimstone was strong, lurking beneath sweat and shame. She couldn't tell if they were used for intimidation or if there was just no way to mask them when they were so concentrated. There was a faint aroma of perfume, something heady and spiced, but it was hardly enough to comfort. The creature looked at them with eyes that seemed all pupils, making it impossible to tell just which one the voids were settled on, and before 'Lanta could state their quest, she moved. She only left the narrow opening for the girls, though, forcing 'Lanta to put in some distance so she could move ahead to lead.
Rickety ankles dragged the raggedy Annes of legs. Slap-dashed staggers along with a brain that felt as if it were microwaved and frozen on the inside. Tattooed skin uselessly sat and stretched and tightened with muscular reaction. ?Hurry? I?m gettin? antsy... I can?t? Hurry... I?m gettin? antsy. I can?t...? Repeated horridly while losing the grip of her position of power, Chase felt those loose roots being plucked, vein by vein to be replaced with stronger, more dominant reigns. She galloped sloppily in defiance when she felt herself slipping away, trapped in the confinement of the tunnel around them. ?I can feel it.. Come on, Loo? We gotta hurry.. I?m gettin? antsy??
"Gonna need ya to be quiet." 'Lanta hissed over her shoulder to Chase. The move afforded a look over to the serpent woman trailing them. "Just...lemme do the talkin'." She kept her voice real low and turned to face ahead. Just in through the door, they were funneled into a claustrophobic foyer where the ceiling hung down over their heads, like a drapery that seemed a little too solid. It was balmy and dark, but with a few brisk steps, they entered into a circular room that afforded more headspace but not too much more in the way of width. The main chamber had more light filtering in, too--though 'Lanta couldn't quite figure out from where--which helped the girls really take in the mottled red-grey color of the walls, ceiling, and floor. It was even more humid here and 'Lanta swore she saw moisture on the surfaces, which made her feel like she was in the guts of some great beast. Hell, it even started to feel like it was pulsating. She swallowed and pulled Chase back towards her side. Ahead of them, past a stretch of bare space, they were waiting. Two seated and one standing, the whole lot on the opposite end of a surprisingly simple table. She noticed that their chairs were high-backed and rather cushy looking.
The ones left open for her and Chase were skeletal in comparison. She brought the Gypo closer, careful about revealing just how heavily the other woman was leaning on her; her seemingly sure steps stopped, however, when she realized that they farther they inched in, the colder it got. She had to keep herself from wincing. Too late. They already noticed the pause. By the time she got the Gypo to a chair, the temperature had dropped enough to produce shivers. Her skin ached all over.
Cold. Cold. Cold. She was feeling relief at the cold. Her fever was out of control. She always had a fever, granted, but she had skyrocketed to a near boiling point in her blood. The frigidness gave her relief, and the implanted fever dreams were becoming ravenous in nature and more and more vivid. But that cold. That coolness had her sigh. And she could barely notice anything else but that cool. Was that red? It was all over the place. Where was Loo? She could hardly see what was and wasn?t anymore. Loo had to have been somewhere, and she saw scissor whips and fiery storms of burning ribbons that danced in her very own eyes. She began to fall out of it, reluctantly, and not only saw a Loo, but many Loos spinning around each other. Chase?s hands shot to her face, and she tried to stay straight. A fierce crack shot through her neck, allowing her to stand in proper to look formally shaped. She stood upright rigidly, but her neck and arms may as well have been underwater with murky shifts and twists.
Seeing her sister start to writhe more, she gently guided the Gypo in front of a chair and set her hands on either shoulder. Sit. She ignored the other seat and stayed standing behind. She could hear the scales winding up behind them, but she kept her eyes trained forward.
The guardian of the other seated pair was appropriately large. He had a face like a bulldog with his lower jaw jutting out past his nose, and small peg-like teeth that protruded up. His skin was dark, his chest broad and bare with his arms across it. He had gnarled curls which trailed every which way, bat wing ears, and a too slender waist. She couldn?t see his legs, but she could see hints of a tail. He stared at them with eyes the same color of his skin?in fact, she could only tell they were open now because she saw the startlingly white fold of skin cover them up briefly before rolling back. ?Lanta thought he might speak, but for the moment, everything was quiet.
Her spine was a hooked faucet downward. Like a slithering snake sans the slithering noises. The tattoos on her skin practically swam against the tanned hue of the sun-kissed demeanor. But they were not moving. Or were they? The quiet made her breathing frenzy seem deafening, but the cold swelling around was solace. She leaned against the backrest of the chair in a throwing rigidity, enjoying the temperature she found there in a deadly coil. The silence was beginning to kill her. Well, it was really the Other inside trying to kill her from the inside out. She was trying to put her in so much pain that she would give in again and let her take siege of the dominating facet of the two. "What do I have to do...?" Spoken to the key figures in the room. Spoken to them all. She needed answers, now. There was no more time. And Chase was on borrowed time. Soon, she would onto a borrowed life. "Just tell me... Please? What do y'need?"