After the sun and warmth of Inala's grotto, the wind and rain here are especially cold. It doesn't help that there is nothing but pale, bare skin to resist it with as Snowcora finds herself atop a stony spire. Even her jewelry and tattoos are absent, as if she were just Snow once more. A peaked hill rises before her, next to the spire, and blocks the worst of the wind at least.
"Oh Dagh's inflamed arse, it's cold!" Snowcora complains and tries to hug herself in a futile attempt to get some warmth. Why can't she ever wake up with full clothing and fur? Why is it always something that involves nudity?
Of course it would need to be really soft fur for this body. Luckily, the 'hill' in front opens up, revealing the craggy slopes to just be folded wings. These now enfold Snowcora's spire, cutting out the wind and rain (and light). It isn't completely dark, at least: the glowing golden orbs of Vorgulremik's eyes provide some light as the huge head ducks down towards her. "It has been a while," the dragon rumbles. "I was afraid you had forgotten about me."
"I would be so lucky to forget about you," Snowcora grumbles as she wipes off the wet from her body. "You do know that Kaira doesn't like you summoning me? She might be inclined to start sticking hot pokers in your backside again."
"I have so few opportunities like this, however," the dragon notes, his breath warming the woman at least (if she can ignore the smell). "Inala, especially, seems to leave a big 'hole' that I can reach through. I've been worried about you. You haven't kept me updated on your progress with the General's little shoggoth-bomb project."
"I don't think I'm required to," Snowcora points out as she fans away the smell of his breath. "Not a whole lot has happened since then worthy of note. They bombs have all been dealt with and the unwilling servant has been freed. Next I just have to lure her out and destroy her. Fun."
"I got the impression that something more was happening, from spying through Inala's hole," the dragon claims, and turns his head to spare Snowcora his breath at the cost of having one of his eyes closer to her now. "I can't help you if I don't have all the information.."
"Nothing that matters to you. I've told you what matters to the matter at hand," Snowcora points out. "I've allied with one of the monsters that the General tried to enslave, so to speak. If anything comes of that, well, time will tell."
"You don't trust me, do you?" Vorgulremik asks, sounding hurt.. well, trying to.
"I trust you as much as you trust me. I trust you as much as a dragon trusts anyone," Snowcora claims.
"I though we were growing closer," the dragon rumbles, then smiles. "But you're here, so I should teach you something. Something you need to know."
"Apparently it is not how to keep your breath minty fresh. Great Gods, what have you been eating?" Snowcora says, then grins. "And I could so poke you in your eye right now."
"Then you'd be left to the wind and rain," the dragon reasons. "You are too polite.. especially in this form. I don't think you would be cruel for no reason."
"Then I could wake up," Snowcora counters, "But yes, I wouldn't poke you ... yet."
"Good," Vorgulremik rumbles. "Because it is time you learned how to eat souls."
"Er, I'd rather not learn how to do that. Kaira would not be pleased," Snowcora notes.
"Her agenda is one-sided," Vorgulremik claims. "Her creator slaughtered entire worlds to achieve her ends. I would not look to Kaira for tips on morality."
"Your agenda is one-sided too, your own survival," Snowcora points out. "I'm aware of it, and everything you do is to meet that goal. You want to corrupt me, get me to free you, and then you'll kill me."
"Corrupt you?" Vorgulremik asks. "Unlike, say.. Inala? Or Gorphat? Or Kaira? How you use what I teach you is up to you. But if you do not learn it, there will a come a time when you will regret it. You see this ability as something only to gain power - but it can also be a way to preserve that which you hold most dear."
"Aha! And there it is, the justification," Snowcora croons as she walks in a small circle. "I still remember you claiming you could keep people with you by devouring them. All right, I guess I am 'game', but I will inform Kaira about this little session."
"So, you wish to punish me for teaching you now?" Vorgulremik asks. "No gratitude at all?" The dragon sighs. "And here I was just trying to help you deal with the pain of loss. You and the Countess have the longevity of the fey due to your shadow-symbiosis.. but this is not something passed down. Your children will be mortal, and far shorter-lived than you."
"I didn't say I would punish you, but I cannot keep secrets from Kaira, especially about this. It is a matter of trust," Snowcora points out. "Depending on how you teach me and what you will encourage I could be inclined to explain it in less, well, horrifically evil ways."
"You will not see it as evil, when given the choice of surrendering one you love to Death.. or holding onto them for the rest of your life," Vorgulremik claims. "You at least deserve to have that choice, don't you? If Death owes anyone favors, it is you."
"But I also cannot try to control the world. I don't want to be treated as a God, or try to become one. I'll lose too much of myself in the process. Seeing you shows me that well enough," Snowcora notes. "So understand even if I have the choice, it will be no."
"But you do want the choice, don't you?" the dragon asks, his great glowing eyes narrowing slightly.
"The problem with answering that is it might give you satisfaction," Snowcora non-answers.
"It is a great power, whether used for good or.. for selfish reasons," Vorgulremik claims. "Think of the Yodhsunala, and power they held in the form of the Srinalas.. using the power of the Barsunala to retrieve a spirit, and for a moment give it life again. That power is nothing to ours, however. To capture a soul, whole, without it having to go through the trauma of dying. To have its wisdom and memories available.. not just to you, but to any who need them. And ultimately.. the power to resurrect such a soul in a new body, should you choose to."
"Which ... I can hazard a guess you have never done the last thing you mentioned," Snowcora notes with a grin, "I see what you're doing now. You're trying to turn me into one of your kind..."
"My kind are gone," Vorgulremik claims. "The competitive urge to become more powerful.. well, how would you experience that, when there are no others to compete against? I am an indifferent god, too. I take the good, the bad, the evil and the divine equally, without judgment. But you.. you could ensure that those who deserve punishment for their evil do not escape punishment through death. Does that make you a god, or just.. fair?"
"You aren't a God. Get that out of your head right now," Snowcora says and points at the Dragon's eye. "Now, about teaching me..."
"Of course," Vorgulremik says, pulling his head back a bit. "The first step.. is to want it. Is there anyone you would give a second chance at life to.. or anyone you would condemn to hell?"
Snowcora smirks. "I've already done the latter, care to guess who?" she coos at the dragon. "As for the former, of course. Everyone has that feeling in life"
"Focus on that then," the dragon says. "The unfairness of existence. It needs order, and rules. Rewards and punishments. But the good suffer, and the bad thrive. Let it make you angry!" Vorgulremik growls, flames licking at his lips.
"IF I do that, then you'll just suffer more. Are you sure you want that?" Snowcora asks, eyes narrow.
"If it is necessary for you to grasp the power.. yes," Vorgulremik claims, somewhat coldly. "I have lived many lives, and have suffered throughout them all. Never have I known joy.. only fleeting satisfaction and pride. Suffering is the plight of the immortal."
This causes Snowcora to pause. "You have never known joy?" she asks, "Not even once? That is hard to believe."
The dragon chuckles, shaking the stone beneath Snowcora's feet. "Tell me then: what do you suppose would bring me joy?" he asks.
"I can think of one thing right now; beating oblivion," Snowcora says honestly. "Possibly getting me to stop calling you horrible, evil, and revolting."
"I do not think that I am evil," Vorgulremik claims, raising a giant claw to his chest. "Only honest. If I were to get you to set me free.. would I feel joy? I cannot answer that. If you did it because you felt something for me.. that I deserved to live, perhaps. That.. that would be something new, certainly. Something powerful."
"Except you have never done the one thing that would have convinced me to consider that," Snowcora notes, rather somber too. "I'm honest with you too, you know."
"What one thing would that be?" Vorgulremik asks. "Throwing myself on a sword? You hate me, but those you care about have done terrible things.. things you can actually relate to. Do you love Gorphat.. or only hope to change her to something less horrific? Even after all the suffering she has caused. What did she do to earn her second chance?"
"You have never once done a completely selfless act," Snowcora answers simply. "Something that would not benefit you in any way, but would others."
"Does such a thing exist?" Vorgulremik asks. "How many have you known to do this?"
"I've known a few. Yes, it does exist," Snowcora replies, then apparently changes the subject. "But as you have also said earlier, life is unfair. I know a small girl who is destined for something horrible. And ... I have no idea how to save her."
"Is it your place to save her?" Vorgulremik asks. "You tend to save the fallen more than the innocent. What about the Slakash - a mob of crazed murderers - melted your heart?"
"I saw a chance for hope in them. And sometimes, frankly, it is easier to save someone who has fallen over the innocent. The fallen tend to be stronger," Snowcora admits, "And no, the Slakash did not melt my heart."
"And it is more my place than anyone to save the child I speak of," Snowcora notes and waves her hand. "And it is immensely frustrating to not know how."
"And if I could help you to do it?" Vorgulremik asks. "Would that earn me a spot in your list of those to save? Nobody has ever tried to save me before."
"I cannot give you an honest answer to that. I do not know," Snowcora admits and shrugs.
"What is this terrible destiny then, at least?" the dragon asks.
"Having her soul devoured by another and her flesh taken for another," Snowcora notes dryly. "Sound familiar? All because of the accident of her birth."
"And this girl would not happen to have lovely roseate spots on her, would she?" Vorgulremik asks.
"I taught her how to play music," Snowcora notes as she looks down.
"Why should that sadden you? She still has her life to live, after all, no matter if it has a set expiration date," the dragon says. "You could use what I teach you to save her, before the other gets to her. But I think you would prefer a simpler way, even if it's success cannot be guaranteed."
"I would prefer a way that doesn't risk my own soul becoming black," Snowcora says, then shrugs. "Now, you were teaching me."
"Yes, this lesson will be appropriate," Vorgulremik notes. "The first step is to have the will to do this, because will is all. Creatures of magic, like myself, armor our souls. For an immortal, it is the True Name that allows one to control the soul. When I would consume a world, it was because my will overpowered all upon it, breaking their armor. For mortals, souls are naked things - but while vulnerable, they are not so directly controllable. And they can still be armored."
"Is that why you haven't tried to devour me yet?" Snowcora asks pointedly. "Or wait, you kind of did try ... and Tulani kicked your tail..."
"It is the reason you, and those you bring with you, are safe within the world of the dagger," Vorgulremik notes, clearly not wanting to keep on that particular subject. "This is because of the Barsunala spirit attached to you. Without it, you would be vulnerable to any number of inhabitants here, including myself. Out there, in your world however.. nobody wears armor. And therefore those who prey on souls do not expect it."
"You do know that without that I would be dead? My soul is broken and incomplete," Snowcora notes, "So without it there wouldn't have been much to devour anyway."
"That is beside the point," Vorgulremik notes. "You have it now. Though even without it, you would not perish, as you have a backup in the Shadow. But that would not armor you. To gain new armor, you would need to go to a very powerful fey, one that you trust implicitly not to alter you. They can armor your soul.. and probably that of your little friend as well."
"And are you volunteering?" Snwocora asks, bare brow arching.
The dragon laughs, lighting up the inside of the wing-dome with flames. "As I said, a powerful fey that you trust. I have no power, for I am dead. Your best hope would by my dear daughter, Melusine."
"I can't exactly trust her either," Snowcora notes, "And it isn't a concern right now. You were saying I have to devour a soul by wanting to, and by breaking its armor. How?"
"The simplest way to break through the defenses of the soul.. is to kill them. At that moment, you have all the advantages, for they will be exposed and their will broken. If facing a mortal or even supernatural being that has no protection, it becomes more directly a battle of wills. As for gods.. well, I am not certain the ones you have here can be eaten, since they don't really exist in a genuinely spiritual sense."
"How ... surprisingly direct. I thought it would be something more esoteric, involving mediation, incantations, and digestives," Snowcora notes.
"This is a natural power to my kind, and others," Vorgulremik notes. "If it did not work via instinct it would never be discovered. Oh, there are sneaky, esoteric ways to do it of course. That is for wizards and sorcerers and their ilk. I am a dragon. Subtle doesn't always suit us, but brute strength is our forte."
"Then what about me? I am not your kind," Snowcora points out.
"Aren't you?" the dragon asks, dipping his head down close again. "Part of you is shadow dragon, which means part of you is from me."
"I am quite nothing like you," Snowcora insists. "I'm not ugly," she adds with a grin.
"Ugly?" Vorgulremik asks, and then rears back, spreading his wings to reveal the storm. Lightning strikes the tips of them. "Am I not magnificent?"
"Weeeeell, to eahc his own I suppose," Snowcora answers and grins, "So, how if I am part you I have not had the urge or instinct to do this?"
The wings wrap round once again, shutting out the storm. "Because that part of you is kept at bay by the Barsunala still. It squats like a toad in the hole where the shadow will fit."
Snowcora gets an odd expression on her face. "I am now imagining a toad sitting in a hole," she admits. "And Kaira hasn't mentioned this either. So, if it is blocked, I can't use it. So what is the point?"
"It may not always be blocked," Vorgulremik notes. "And Kaira not informing you of something is hardly surprising."
"You really hate her, eh?" Snowcora has to ask. "So, what you're telling me is someday I might just know how to do it?"
"It is as simple as I explained it to be," Vorgulremik notes. "Just be certain you will be the winner in the battle of wills before attempting it. Failing can be.. painful."
"But it can also be useful.. when it is someone else failing in their attempt on another, and you are prepared to take advantage of the situation," the dragon adds.
"In what way?" Snowcora asks, "And what are the down sides to succeeding, hmm?"
"There are no down sides to succeeding," the dragon notes. "That would be like asking the down sides to eating. Well, there are down sides to eating for a vampire of course.."
"And you are not affected by the soul eaten?" Snowcora asks.
"You feel euphoric, and of course can gain access to their memories and knowledge and any magic they possess," Vorgulremik points out. "You have seen me devour a man's soul to learn more about the Sorcerer Dack."
"You can also devour disembodied spirits of course," the dragon adds. "And you've already 'eaten' one with the dagger.. that highwayman.."
"Yes, I remember that. I was tempted to kill you then and there," Snowcora points out. "So, there is no risk to becoming supremely evil by devouring evil, eh?"
"Of course there is, if it stronger than your own self-ideal," Vorgulremik notes. "But such a strong will would been very hard to devour in the first place. If you are strong enough to do it, then you are strong enough to resist it."
"Pity you didn't devour something supremely good and become nicer," Snowcora mutters.
"I've devoured many good beings," Vorgulremik notes with a fiery grin. "They put up the least fight."
"Yeah ... you just lost points with that grin," Snowcora counters.
"Of course, nothing immortal is ever truly innocent," the dragon notes.
"You would rather I lie and play the misunderstood, tortured beast?" Vorgulremik notes. "Is that how Gorphat did it?"
"No. She has the possibility to change for the better," Snowcora notes. "Plus, I was snogging her daughter."
"Whereas I cannot change 'for the better' because I am already perfect?" the dragon asks, still a bit sardonically.
"No. It's more you don't want to. You like who you are," Snowcora points out.
"You tend to pare away the bits that don't work after a million years or so," Vorgulremik admits. "What is it about me that you find so onerous though? Honesty? Bluntness? Lack of remorse? These things will befall any living being that lives so long."
"You enjoy hurting others," Snowcora says simply. "It isn't just a means to an end, it is also for enjoyment."
"What makes you think I enjoy hurting others?" Vorgulremik asks. "Have you ever seen me torture someone? I daresay you've only seen me being tortured. Was I anything but cordial when you entered my home? Did I not aide you in tracking down a mutual - and far more dangerous - enemy? And in return you attacked and killed me, unprovoked. That sort of treatment can get to a person over time."
"You were cordial because you could use us. You would have killed is afterward as we were a threat," Snowcora points out. "Now, is there more you can explain or teach me?"
"Let's see what you've learned, first," Vorgulremik says. "I've given you all you need to protect your friend, I think. Tell me how you can do it."
"Well, you said I would have to find a powerful fey to shield her soul," Snowcora answers, "Which won't be anytime soon. I still have to deal with the Avatar."
"That's part of the solution," Vorgulremik notes. "What is the rest of it?"
"Well, devouring the threat itself first would be a solution," Snowcora answers.
"No, since the gods of this world are less.. singular," the dragon says. "You have overlooked the basics: the battle of wills. You must strengthen her will."
"I somehow doubt I can make a child strong enough to fight of a centuries old evil," Snowcora notes.
"Why not?" Vorgulremik asks. "Children are far stronger willed than adults, who have allowed doubt and despair to color their minds. A child's mind can be as bright and resilient as the sun. You need only kindle it."
"Must be why you enjoyed eating children then," Snowcora remarks a bit dryly. "Still, maybe it will work. I have time."
"And the third part?" the dragon asks.
"The third part? If you mean devouring her myself and putting the soul elsewere, no," Snowcora says.
"No, that is not the answer," the dragon sighs. "You cannot devour Amenlichtli. I would have done it myself already if that were possible. You must be prepared to strike a fatal blow to her when she has broken her teeth trying to eat the girl."
"Which I have no idea how to do," Snowcora says with her own sigh.
"I do," Vorgulremik claims, a bit smugly. "It is one of the reasons she was so desperately courting me, I imagine."
"That supposed Godslaying weapon?" Snowcora asks.
"Yes. Legend says Amenlichtli will be destroyed by an Exile weapon," Vorgulremik notes. "I did not arrive on this world alone. I was chased, after my very recent rebirth. And the one who was sent to hunt me almost certainly had that weapon in her possession.. but either lost it upon arrival or forgot about it."
"And you don't know where it is, do you?" Snowcora asks. "I don't."
"I have suspicions," the dragon claims. "Ravenia was my agent, collecting information. There was not much, but I did at least track down the forbidden zone it may lie within. Amenlichtli thought I knew more."
"And where, pray tell, is that?" Snowcora asks, arching her brow again.
The dragon looks at Snowcora.. then turns his head away and belches flame. The fire curves around the inside of the wings, filling the entire dome until it seems the rocky spire is at the center of a flaming hurricane. And then.. it goes away. The wing-dome is gone, replaced by small dome of hides and furs, held up with the rib-bones of some huge animal. The floor of the yurt is also covered in hides, and there's a mound of furs that might be a bed. Buckets of water cluster at the central posts, which form a pyramid up to an opening in the top of the structure. Between the base of these poles is a fire, which brings welcome warmth and light.
Snowcora actually appreciates the burst of warmth, it is torture to have the full-body goosepimple for a long time. After the flames die down and shapes take shape, she looks around. "I don't recognize any of this place," she admits as she tries to at least classify the type of inhabitants.
There isn't much in the way of personal possessions, not even eating utensils. The mystery solves itself however when the door flap is pushed aside and a dark elf enters. He's tall, with a slightly cruel cast to his features. His eyes are golden like other elves, but also cat-slit and a bit reptilian. He's wearing simple furs, and nods to Snowcora.
"Okay, I do not know why I am here now," Snowcora admits as she eyes the dark elf. Given her past experiences with these folk, she shuffles towards the door.
"Hold," the man says, and the voice is that of the dragon, of course. "Inala made this meeting possible. Inala defined the form you wear for it," Vorgulremik explains. "Inala must be given her due. You want something from me, I want something in return."
"But I don't have a hose, some turnips, and a squeep," Snowcora jokes.
"What's a squeep?" the elf asks, genuinely curious.
"It's a tool that makes a squeep sound," Snowcora explains. "It has a rare left handed version."
One white eyebrow rises at this. "I'm sure I can get you to make that sound on your own," he notes, and makes a come-hither gesture to the albino woman.
"Er..." Snowcora says, not moving, "What exactly is it you want?"
"Love?" the man suggests. "Am I any more hideous than one of your demons?"
"No, but I know you better," Snowcora admits, "And you're more scary."
"If I am gentle, that will scare you, and if I am rough.. you won't be disappointed, but still will be frightened," Vorgulremik admits. "But I have just told you how to save your friend. Is that not worth at least a 'thank you'? Maybe if I heard that more often, I would be more inclined to be nice to people."
Snowcora laughs a bit at that. "I'm always looking for your ulterior motive, you know," she says as she does finally head over towards the elf. "You always have layers to your plans. Dragons and women have that in common."
The mans's hands are rough and calloused - no Elven Prince for Vorgulremik, but a barbarian. Still, he embraces Snowcora and runs his hands along her spine, until he can cup and squeeze her butt. That's when he kisses her. It's an aggressive kiss, of course.
True enough, Snowcora makes a squeep! It rather surprises her, really. "Planning to spear me with your lance, eh?" the albino jokes once the kiss comes to an end. At least she does relax some it seems. She even drapes her home over her shoulders.
For the time being, the elf seems content to plant kisses on Snowcora's face, neck and shoulder. But he does scoop her up eventually and carry her to the bed stack. "You want me to tell you where the forbidden zone is, don't you?" he asks, as he lays her down.
"Well, of course I do," Snowcora admits as she flutters her eyes at the evil elf-dragon-person.
The dark elf doesn't answer, but keeps kissing and rubbing. It's apparent that all of Inala's blessings are in effect, once Vorg starts suckling.. although he does use his teeth a bit recklessly.
"Ow, hey, that hurts," Snowcora complains. The biting part hurts anyway, the milking part ... feels far too nice, frankly. She also briefly thinks that if Inala had left her as a Barinala, Vorg would be sorely disappointed. This makes her giggle. For her part she squirms about, and well, gropes the other elf right back.
Vorg is gentle.. or tries to be. The time for restraint is short lived, as that dragon passion kicks in. Several times!
"Dammit, why do I like this!?" poor Snowcora thinks. Her defiance and insults have past by this point, she's actually encouraging, creative, multi-positioning, and rather oral too! She might last longer than he does!
"Will you come back to me.. willingly.. a few more times?" Vorgulremik asks from between Snowcora's breasts. "Then I will tell you where to search."
"You ask that because you know you can get me to submit and do perverted things with you," Snowcora sort-of complains.
"I am on borrowed time," Vorgulremik notes. "And you are my only friend. My only chance of finding 'joy' before I am snuffed out like a candle. And.. you do enjoy it, don't you?"
"You aren't on that borrowed of a time. It isn't until my work is done that Kaira completes her duty," Snowcora notes.
"I am not so confident of that," Vorgulremik notes, and nibbles on Snowcora's neck. "She has been busy."
"Busy with what? I have not released anyone for a time," Snowcora notes, brow arching.
"I can't tell what she is doing, I'm in prison after all," the elf notes. "Only you can ask her."
"Then how do you know she is busy?" Snowcora asks.
"She shares my power over this place in order to do these things," Vorg explains. "That, I can feel."
"Ah, and now you want me to spy on her for you, eh?" Snowcora asks.
"I did not say that," Vorg points out, and kisses Snowcora's chin. "Only that she has been busy. Since she has but one purpose, I can only conclude this effort is moving towards it."
"And you're trying to seduce me into spying on her. I knew there were layered reasons at work. You're nervous," Snowcora says as she arches her neck.
"Should I not be?" the elf asks, looking down into Snowcora's eyes.
"No, it isn't surprising you would be nervous. It makes me nervous in that it implies she is planning things and not informing me, either," Snowcora points out.
"You are rather busy," Vorg points out. "I had to sneak in to see you."
"Yes, well, lots to do," Snowcora claims, "And hide from."
"Are you hiding from us?" the dragon-elf asks, eyebrow arched. "Something you don't even want Kaira to know about?"
"I hide from everyone," Snowcora claims.
"You should not," Vorgulremik says. "Spread your wings, cast your shadow upon the city and let them know you are watching them."
"I'm not that terrifying, in any form," Snowcora notes.
"I will work on that flaw," Vorgulremik promises. "Do you even have a dragon form that is clearly your own, and not one that Kaira thought was handsome?"
"Well, the Gorphat-made one. That's about it," Snowcora states.
"You need one of your own," the elf insists. "Something that embodies you and your power."
"Eh, then I would have to define myself and that is increasingly difficult," Snowcora points out, then licks the elf's nose.
"Then define who you want to be," the man suggest, and reacts to the lick with.. more ravishing.
"Bah, then I can't hide!" Snowcora whines! Well, for all of a few seconds because the ravising, well, distracting.
Either Vorgulremik does have limits.. the circumstance of the dream does. Inala's 'hole' may be closing, as after the next round of lovemaking, the world starts to thin around Snowcora. "Remember.. come see me.." Vorgulremik says as things fade.
"Oh thank the Gods that is over. He was getting to me," Snowcora thinks as the dream fades. Still, it is worrying Kaira has been busy and not informing him. She should be. Something to look into, on top of all the other things to look into. But right now ... sleep seems very nice.