Upon waking from her prolonged nap, Willow finds herself still on Mr. Bright's narrow bed. For horn-related reasons, it's made up in reverse with the pillow at the foot so there isn't any danger of poking the wall by accident. "Did you sleep well?" Mr. Bright asks when he notices her rouse. "I apologize if the mattress is a bit thin."
Willow yawns widely. "I slept longer than I expected. It was reasonably well, and the mattress is fine," she says once that yawn passes. "What time is it?"
"Time? Well.. it is between dinner and breakfast. I would have to ask Mr. Sackcloth to narrow it further," the white unicorn says.
"Weird dreams, too, but it made me think," Willow claims as she sits up slowly. "I was remembering old tales from Sylvania regarding magic ... did any of the men speak of any artifacts or odd things present when they were brought back? Do they remember seeing the people sacrificed?"
Mr. Bright blinks at this. "I.. don't know," he admits. "Mr. Stitch should know, having gone through it."
"I ask, because I remember some comments in that story about distance; it would matter with regard to how close their slavers have to be to actually do anything to them," Willow tries to explain, then stretches and gets off the bed.
"Interesting," Mr. Bright says. "I don't have any books on magic that could have suggested such a thing. Shall I send for Stitch?"
"He'll probably want something from me to answer, won't he? He seems the type," Willow remarks.
"It is in his own interest to answer though," Bright claims. "I can go ask for you if you wish."
"Sure," Willow remarks. "I'm surprised you didn't try to do anything to me while I slept."
"I assumed you'd want to be awake," Mr. Bright claims. He gets up from his desk and stretches, then shuffles some papers around before heading for the door. "He may be returning with me if I can't speak to him in private," he cautions.
"Understood," Willow says and nods.
The unicorn leaves, and Willow is left to herself for the moment. There's a jug of water if she's thirsty, and the 'bathing area' that is a washtub for standing in and sponge-bathing most likely.
Willow does actually get a drink, then heads right to the tub. Clothing is shed quickly, and then she grabs the sponge, wets, it, and proceeds to clean herself. She could already smell herself and that wasn't pleasant, but then horse sweat usually isn't; and add in unwashed raider and you get yuck.
She gets about half-way done when the door opens and Mr. Bright and Mr. Stitch arrive. The Vartan looks tired, and is only wearing some shorts. His feathers are also a bit disheveled. "Well.. that's a sight to wake me up some," the bird notes, and winks at Willow.
Willow snorts and continues on cleaning herself, and maybe being a bit exhibitionistic about it. "Did he ask you what I asked him?" she asks, "Or should I ask again?"
"So this isn't about the raid report then," Stritch says in his gravely voice. "Figgured it wasn't. So what's this about?" He turns his head back and forth between the unicorns.
"Willow remembered some lore, and wanted to know more about your experience with the Doctor," Bright explains. He then sits down and dips his quill, as if about to take notes.
"I had some dreams about old stories from Sylvania; stuff from the necromancer war and such. When you were, ah, brought back, were you in a room with a weird object of any sort? And was the ... donor also present?" Willow inquires as she spreads her lets to wash down below.
This seems to distract the Vartan for a moment, but then he recovers and says, "Were a few others, laid out on slabs like I was. Well, not 'xactly the same slabs. I mean, they was stone, but some had covers, like." He gestures with his talons, as if trying to remember. "Glowy, shiny. Mine and the one next to me. Had an Aquilan on it, looking.. dead-ish, but breathing. Then come the pain. Pain like you wouldn't believe.."
"Mm, I probably would believe it," Willow notes, but gestures with her hand, "Please continue."
"First off.. waking was like having the worst hangover ever, then having my life sucked back away was a hundred times worse. I thought I'd gone blind, when I could think again. Scratchy voice o' the Doc told me that he owned me now. I was lucky my brother brought me in before I was too dead.. don't remember how I actually got there. Think you'd remember having yer throat sliced, but I suppose when things are fading no brainpower left for memorizing things."
Mr. Bright actually looks up from his note-taking. "What did your brother tell you happened?"
"Memory is finite, and in extreme moments, other things are more important," Willow notes as she cleans a hoof while balancing on the other. "Regarding these clowing covers ... did he move them around? Do you remember what the other one looked like after you were in pain?" she asks, "But, after you answer his question, please."
"Yodhrephath razor-arrow, he says," Stitch explains. "I remember the fight.. our ship was goin' down, we were taking off.. that's about it. Didn't expect them.. not a bloody warship full o' 'em, spitting lightning and.. they caught us by surprise, I'm saying. Can't recall 'xactly where though." He looks a bit troubled by that last part. "I think the covers were.. maybe cloth? Couldn't be just cloth though. Zolk maybe. So bright, couldn't make out more than red and purple.. eh.. my vision was swimming, so maybe they were moving. After my new situation was explained - that he could recall the life I 'ad on loan whenever he wanted - I passed out, or was put to sleep. I think I was on an airship, but can't be certain. I just know me and the other guy were laying on top of the whatevers. I don't know if anyone else was in there, I could barely move at all."
"Were there any markings on the slabs you were laying on?" Willow asks. "Details are important, it could tell us whether he can affect you at distance, or you have to be there."
"Just those covers," Stitch says, his brow furrowed. "Err.. hard to remember because of the pain. Like.. if I try I remember that more than anything else. Wait.. thinking wrong here." He rubs at his forehead. "The Doc used one hand to gesture.. the other.." Now the Vartan is bending over so that his head is nearly between his knees. "Shiny, shiny.. the other hand. Tried to hide it, but it was shiny. A.. spindle? Wound with thread.. thread going to the other slab, to it's cover. Maybe to mine too.. Grrrr."
"That is helpful. I think you have to be there to take it back," Willow says as she steps out of the tub and then over to the bed where she sits, naked. She does at least cross her legs properly. "But ... if this is you being linked to the other one ... hm. Did the doctor mention he could kill you by killing the other?"
"He.. didn't talk about the other one at all," Stitch says hoarsely. "But I was the one gettin' up, so.. I assume the other one wasn't. I sure ain't noticed any magic thread coming off me. 'Less it's invisible."
"You don't have one that I can tell," Willow notes, then peers at him to be sure. She then shakes her head. "Definitely not; I sense nothing from you."
"Not even my headache?" the Vartan groans.
"Mr. Sackcloth can give you something for that," Mr. Bright assures.
""Don't drink so much," Willow offers. "Or ... do you always have this after waking?"
"Nothing to drink here but water," Stitch claims. "No.. this.. this is from trying to remember.." he says. "Should have asked my brother.."
"That's odd. Trying to remember causes headaches?" Willow asks. "That sounds like ... mind magic blocks."
"This scar ain't in my imagination," Strich rasps. "You can feel it go deep."
"I know the scar isn't. It's your mind I am more interested in. I am wondering how much of your memory is real. You mention your brother? Where is he? Why would he be here if he wasn't also a slave?"
"We're always together," Stitch claims. "He came to watch out for me.. and because he knew about the Doctor, so he didn't have much choice."
"And you are sure he is your brother? How did he know about this doctor?" Willow asks.
"I'm his leash, you could say," Stitch adds. "He goes against the Doc, and I get my life yanked. He says.. there was a black ship. It wasn't there, then it was, just as he was about to give out from carrying me."
Willow looks at Mr. Bright. "Doesn't this seem a bit convenient to you?" she asks. "Something feels off to me."
"If it's true, then the Doctor was there waiting, with everything ready for whoever made it," Mr. Bright says. "But.. the Doctor wants men that are near death. Men that couldn't make it on their own. Have you seen any others from your old ship?"
"No," Stitch claims. "I haven't talked to the others about their rebirths.. it isn't something we 'xactly bond over. My brother is the only one of the raiders that's not.. resurrected."
"Are there any other raiders you trust we could also speak to?" Willow asks, "I want to ... cross-reference his experience with yours."
"My brother," Stitch says. "Mr. Razor."
"Someone not your brother, who was also resurrected," Willow notes. "What about that striped feline? He's not a raider, but he was ressurected."
"Stripe? He's not a raider, just ground crew like Mr. Blue," Stitch says. "We tend to keep apart from the Rhaktor keepers."
"I can arrange an interview," Mr. Bright says.
"I'd like that," Willow says to the other Aeonian. "After that, I may want to talk to your brother. But, I want to collect other accounts first so I can cross-relate all of them and look for inconsistencies."
"Hopefully they will be willing to talk," Mr. Bright says. "The Rakhtor keepers have been here the longest, aside from Mr. Stitch and Mr. Razor."
"Thank you for speaking with me, Mr. Stitch," Willow says and bobs her head. "Is there anything you wish of me?"
"Plenty.. but I need rest first and something for my head," the Vartan says. "I hope you appreciate this.. I'd never go through it for just any old dame."
Willow glances at Mr. Bright. "I'll ... reward you later, when you feel better," Willow claims.
Bright helps Stitch to his feet, and sees him out the door. "I'm sure Mr. Sackcloth can give him something," he says once he closes the door. "I don't actually know what he has, beyond tranquilizers. Nothing poisonous, I'm sure."
"Don't knock a good tranquilizer," Willow comments after the pair, then waits quietly for Mr. Stitch to leave.
When it's just the two unicorns, Mr. Bright takes his curry-brush from a whicker basket and sits next to Willow on the bed so he can brush her dry.
Willow ... lets him. "Did that seem rather suspicious to you too, or am I being paranoid? A brother that isn't affected, that just happened to be in the right place?" she points out. "It's just too convenient."
"Or pre-arranged," Mr. Bright says as he combs out Willow's mane. "You think Mind Magic was used to create false memories?"
"It would fit with what the Royal Mages did to some people, from what I heard," Willow notes as she leans forward a little and relaxes.
"I understand that they transferred the Sabaoth to new bodies, somehow," Mr. Bright says. "I.. doubt that is wholly a matter of Spirit or Mind Magic, otherwise it would be more common. But I suppose there would be a need to suppress any remnants of the original personality or memory." He pauses in the brushing to remove his shirt, and starts again, lower on Willow's back.
"Which would probably cause pain when those places in the memory are being pushed at," Willow points out and leans forwards even more. "And why is it do I think you are very fond of me?"
"Because you are perceptive?" Mr. Bright guesses, and brushes the thigh that he can most easily reach.
Willow laughs softly at that. "Why, though? You barely know me, and I am unlucky as you put it," she points out. "Of course you could be the Doctor's plant, too, and are just trying to manipulate me."
Mr. Bright actually pauses at that suggestion. "Hmmm," he ponders. "If my memory were altered.. would I notice? I'm used to forgetting. Could you tell?"
"Probably not," Willow concedes. She doesn't remember anything that off about him when he was, ah, taking her. And she thinks she kenned him once.
"What about Mr. Sackcloth?" Bright asks, and hovers with the brush as if trying to figure out what he can still reach.. so he start brushing the side of Willow's neck.
"I doubt him as well, but I am not a lie detector," Willow concedes, then ... impishly uncrosses her legs and lazily spreads them as her head tilts a bit to the side.
Mr. Bright sees this as something of an invitation, so leans the mare back against him and reaches around to brush her stomach while nuzzling at her jaw. "Do you like me?" he asks. "I don't remember if anyone has ever actually enjoyed my company."
"I ... don't dislike you anymore," Willow concedes. "Like, though ... that is difficult for me. For our kind, I suspect." Her shoulders slump a bit and she even manages a small sigh. "My mind mostly just focuses on work and looking for the hidden angles of people's motives."
"That is a rather stark description of diplomacy," Mr. Bright comments, and dares to brush against one of Willow's breasts next.
"Nothing is as it seems in diplomacy. All are working in their best interests, after all. It's a matter of when those interests align that things are accomplished," Willow claims as she leans back. The peak of the tested 'mountain' responds at least, though visually it's hard to see.
Mr. Bright shifts, and tries to lower Willow back onto the bed. "That sounds like sex," he notes.
Willow doesn't fight going back. "Careful," she remarks, possibly teasing, we are the same species; things might happen."
"Do you mean we might enjoy ourselves?" Bright asks, as he tries to arrange Willow so she's all on the bed. He then sheds his pants and lies on top of the mare, so he can kiss her.
"That would be terrible," Willow claims just before she actually kisses him back, then wraps her legs around his to hook-hold him. It allows her leverage to ... arch and rub herself between his legs. Then she has an odd thought, she knows all Aeonians are sterile, but she never checked to see if he was a gelding to explain it.
Given his past performance, it seems unlikely, so it may be just the females if not both genders. While he's slowly beginning to react to the rubbing, he's still focused on kissing (or lipping) along Willow's jaw towards her ear.
Willow, meanwhile just strokes along his neck and continues that slow and gentle rubbing. She also lips at his ears when they're in range; meaning he's low enough that his ears are in range. She also does the bizarre and licks his horn.
It's tingly on the tongue! And then Bright shifts his head to actually rub his horn against hers.. which feels odd but nice.
Having a horn is ... well, it gets in the way a lot, and feels odd when pressure is applied. But, at least this feels nice. She deicdes to be encouraging and even whinnies at him a little; this time one that is more, well, wanting instead of defiant.
The horn rubbing almost distracts from the stallion entering her, but.. not really. He's got his arms around her, and seems intent on maintaining maximum skin contact now that she's now tied down.
Once he's inside her, Willow uses the shadow down there to make things feel really nice for him. If nothing else, it will keep him from betraying her down the road, she hopes! "And you have never had such enjoyment with a Rhian mare, or vartan hen?" Willow teases. "They can accommodate us."
"I think there was a Cervani doe once.. a lifetime ago," Bright says. "We're closer in build to them than the others I've found.."
"True enough, but, I find the bucks over-compensate. No one needs more than one horn," Willow claims, managing to keep a straight face. Her movements continue, and the shadow continues, undulating both outside, and inside parts of him.
The stallion does whicker deeply at the sensations, and responds by being a bit more forceful. Aeonians aren't exactly muscular like Rhians, but putting his whole body into it seems to compensate some.
Willow almost teases him more, but instead just focuses on the movement and sensations. There is something about having part of another inside that really does feel good. She doesn't go overboard with the shadow, either, just using it to enhance what he feels a little, not to make it too suspicious. IT's also oddly, one of those moments Willow is really enjoying being female; the closeness and hormonal flow from it is very enticing and intoxicating.
Bright isn't going to rush things.. too much. The added sensation does force him to slow down every so often and focus on nuzzling and kissing before picking up the pace again. And when he does push a bit past the point of no return, he recovers quickly after a few minutes of suckling. So it's a good thing Willow got some rest first. Being pent-up for a century probably takes some time to work though after all.
Willow is slow and enjoys it, all of it. She even encourages him to experiment with positions, and other things, like letting her lick and nurse on that other horn for one of the several times he finds himself at a pleasurable peak. More or less, she's showing him all the ways things can be enjoyable, even using fingers of her own to rub him internally one time to stimulate things. One might wonder what it is they teach in Sylvania!
The poor man finally reaches his limit while he's on Willow's back, pumping furiously until he lets out something like a squawk. He seems to deflate on top of her then, wheezing.
Willow goes down too in a huff, and then a contented sigh. "Did I break you?" she asks, sounding perhaps a bit smug about it. Also, very full amd stretched in all sorts of nice ways.
"I'll be fine.. eventually.." Mr. Bright promises, and then starts to snore.
Willow, is now trapped. And impaled. But at least it's in a nice way? "Med are the same in all species," she grumbles.
She isn't stuck for very long, however, as there is knock on the door, which then opens to admit Mr. Sackcloth. He takes a long look at the situation before asking Willow, "Did you kill him?"
"I don't think so? Why do you ask?" Willow inquires, curious. "My back half is occupied, but my muzzle isn't ... if you want some time too." Is she being serious?
"Actually, I'm here to take you back to the cell," Sackcloth says. "You were going to test the staff for traces of Life Magic work, on the pretense that your milk will help them counter the effects of living underground. You'd be surprised what people will believe when you are a nurse."
"Oh, right. I completely forgot about that. I have been a bit, well, distracted," Willow admits and sounds a little disappointed. She tries to gently roll to the side to get Mr. Bright off of him. "Is Stitch doing any better?" she also asks, "He was having issues."
"I put him to sleep for a while," Sackcloth says, and helps by simply lifting the comatose Mr. Bright off of Willow. "I'm uncertain if it will affect his recent memory or not, however. I've never had to use them to temporarily sedate someone like that."
"Do you know his 'brother', Mr. Razor?" Willow asks as she gets off the bed ... then has to use the tub to clean herself up, again. Drippy.
Sackcloth tucks Bright into bed, and says, "I can't say that I have more than a passing acquaintance with him.. in that he passes me people to put into 'the larder' as he calls it."
"IS he really his brother?" Willow asks. "I have my suspicions."
Willow, now clean, almost starts dressing, but then remembers she is going to the cell, so should be naked.
"They have some resemblance, as far as I can tell," Sackcloth says, looking Willow up and down. "But beyond claiming to be brothers, I couldn't say for certain. Do you want to walk or be carried?"
"What would be more appropriate/believable for a slave?" Willow asks.
"Well.. there's only Mr. Slither to notice," Sackcloth notes. "It depends on if you're tired, or just want to be carried.."
Willow considers. "I want to be carried," Willow decides. She also starts imagining Slither ravishing her and squirms slightly. Stupid hormones.
So, Mr. Sackcloth picks her up and slings her over his shoulder, holding onto her rump as he opens the door, steps out, and then closes it behind him. As he carries her down the hall, she gets to see Mr. Slither turning his head to watch them go past.. and continue to stare at her until they reach her old room.
Willow actually blows a kiss at the serpent, then licks her lips, as they pass. She can't stop herself; not when she gets hormonal and horny. HEr tail does occasionally swish and whack the Rhian in the face.
Sackcloth sets her on her hooves before closing the door. He's already go the lantern lit, and a bucket of water and a washcloth set out. "So.." he says, and hugs Willow to him. "I should probably warm you up again."
"Ah ... sure?" Willow says, sounding a little confused. She also looks around the cell. Be it ever so awful, there's no place like ... cell. No, that's not right. She also tentatively returns that hug.
Sackcloth gives her a nuzzle, then turns her around to face the wall. "You should brace yourself.." he advises.
Willow catches on pretty quickly and does place her hands against the wall to brace herself. "Am I to also be re-secured when you leave?" she inquires, realizing just now she just might be chained to the wall this time, or back to the bed.
"Oh, yes, to the bed again," Sackcloth says, and runs his thick fingers up along her arms, only to brush back down them again. This is followed the flop of his trousers hitting the floor, and then he's got his hands on her hips.. and is lifting her off the ground before pushing up into her.
"I almost want the wall, for a change of pace," Willow claims, then ends up whinnying out loudly when she goes up, and then she feels very, very, VERY full with the stallion enters her! It's intense in all sorts of ways, and her innate desires for larger guys kicks in full-force. She squirms on him, gasping and soon, moaning.
It is definitely a ride, as her feet leave the ground with each rock of his hips. His hands migrate upwards until they're squeezing Willow's breasts, his large head next to hers as he snorts.
Willow makes, well, she sounds like a mare in heat, or rut, with how she whinnies, snorts, and moans as the large horse takes her. She can feel ever movement of him within her; and it's pure bliss; even though it also hurts some too. That's likely Gorphat's influence there, wanting some pain with her sex. Her head bows, palms are flat on the wall, and each time he buries, she clenches.
The clench cause Sackcloth to whicker, and has to reposition himself slightly when Willow leans further forward. Although eventually he lifts her up and carries her to the table, so he can just rest her across it and just hold onto her legs. It makes an awful squeaking as the legs of the table drag back and forth over the floor though, but it does let the big horse pound a bit harder.
And Willow has to hang on to the table for all its worth! She also has to watch her horn so it doesn't impale on anything! She also starts riding wave after wave of Inala's blessing, brought on by the large 'beast' behind her. Maybe memories of Rugharo? Maybe something else? Either way, she is in such bliss right now.
Mr. Sackcloth pauses to catch his breath, but also takes the opportunity to roll Willow onto her back. With her ankles up on his shoulders, presenting the maximum amount of 'cushion' to absorb impacts, he starts going even harder and faster, leaning forward as far as the mare's legs will allow.
Willow feels a bit like a pretzel, but that's okay! Each thrust makes her see starts and feel a rush. It's like Inala herself is inside her head and poking on the pleasure button! She's in full-on breeding rut, and the sounds she makes are indicative of it, it's really plaintive whinnying!
Slowing down just enough that he can shift his grib, Sackcloth squeezes Willow's breasts and brings his big tongue and teeth to bear, making sure she's still producing milk. Each roll of his hips is twisting Willow's pelvis upwards as well.
If she wasn't a moment ago, she sure is now! The equine lips and teeth work really well at stimulating unicorn teats! Soon, she's producing, and her chest is already swelling and getting a bit sore! But, she'll have plenty of outlet, soon enough!
After getting a good taste, Sackcloth leans back and moves Willow's legs around his hips, then scoops her up, his big hands reaching along her back to her shoulders. Once she's off the table and 'free floating', he can really drive things home without fear of wrecking the furniture or driving her horn into the wall.
At this point, Willow sort of loses sense of time. She's floating in the arms of pleasure, and it fills her without and within. She hears her own voice, moaning and whinnying, but it echoes oddly. Pulses of ecstasy come and go, and she hugs tight onto the provider of them.
There's a louder whinny from Sackcloth, and a few especially deep thrusts before he stops and pants. Then he lowers Willow onto the bed and lips at her muzzle for a bit. "I think I need to wipe you down after this," he notes.
Willow does not comment she things she may need to be hosed out after that! Instead, she just sort of hugs on him and drifts in to a twilight half-sleep, basking in floaty, lovely, bliss. "Quit slutting it up," she does chide herself, though, "You have real work to do. Not whoring work! Seriously, you're controlled by your loins! you're ... aw Dagh, it just feels soooooo good."