Please be warned of Graphic Writing. I might need to push this Rating up by one._.
ADSL 28
Gently. Ever so gently, his hot, velvety lips swept over hers. Warmth peppered her skin as his moist lips boldly moved to encase hers, leaving her breathless under his touch. His careful hands cradling her face, moved to the back of her neck, eliciting sensations that beelined deep within her loins.
She gasped.
Lost in the feverish kiss, her body throbbed in want. Without her consent, she arched towards him when his other hand moved to the small of her back, pressing his hips firmly against hers.
She wanted more.
His tongue teased her lower lip, summoning a groan that escaped her throat. Her head began spinning as his tongue immediately found hers and massaged it painfully slowly. Her hands immediately clung on to his shoulders while his found her waist. Her body burned before his touch as his fingers lingered and ghosted over a sliver of bare skin.
She whimpered in defiance when he broke the kiss and hissed acquiescently when he began dragging his tongue along her throat. Instinctively, she wrapped one leg around his waist, surprising her even more with her own actions. She can not do this, and yet, it felt too good.
He groaned, pausing at the junction between her neck and shoulder, swirling his tongue on that patch of skin--she let out a shuddering breath. Deft hands began to venture bravely under her shirt, and his touches dangerously burned in pleasure against her skin. Her cheek pressed against his head, allowing her to take in his sweet smell of peaches, the wind and the sun.
“Stop,” she gasped, her voice barely over a whisper when he experimentally suckled her neck.
He froze, however, giving Luina the chance to immediately unlatch herself from him. Yet, it wasn’t as easy as it was in her mind. Her body defied her actions as bare skin ached for his warmth while her clothes lithely fell to cover any exposure. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything, and then everything would feel right again.
And yet for every action he made on her, a nagging voice at the back of her head screamed in dismay. That whatever was happening between them was wrong. That a promise she made was meant to be kept. As her head began spinning in a mental mantra, she slowly regained her composure.
He stiffened, did not move and kept an unreadable gaze fixed on her.
She could not bring herself to look him in the eye. Her heart that once raced in excitement, struggled to maintain a rhythm in agony. Like the waves of the beach that caressed the sandy shores, the tension between them that was easily solved through these actions instantly came crashing down once more.
“Why…” Drostan asked almost as quietly as a whisper.
“We’re only one kingdom away from Phoen,” Luina hardened her voice, commanding her body to do as her mind says: stay calm, stay distant, stay indifferent.
“Is there something in your Kingdom’s law about this?” He feebly raised his hands only to drop them to his sides.
She stared at him, and the only way she could do that without risking a few drops of tears was to do so coldly. Maybe looking at him was not that much of a good idea, because now she could see how pained he was despite his forced demeanor.
“I…” he began, gathering as much self control as he could but difficulty in doing so. She watched him struggle for words and fail when his eyes fell on her lips. She felt her blood burn under his wanting stare, but fought the urge to succumb to her carnal desires.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, this time, firmly.
She nodded once, quickly turned her back on him and retreated inside the tent. She did not want to risk a moment where she could be reasoned with. The passion driven between them was already more than enough to make alarms go off in her head.
She had been doing so well to distance herself with almost anyone who tried to pursue her. Why should she give in now to Drostan? How dare she kiss another man. How dare she enjoy his unwarranted touches. Never in her life has she felt so disgusted of herself.
She did not realize that she had curled into a ball in her sleeping bag, and when she did, she found herself holding on to a now wrinkled fabric with a painted image of a young woman and a handsome young man smiling in each other’s arms.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into it, clutching it against her lips, "Alaron, I'm so sorry,"
XXX
Luina did not sleep that night.
Drostan could see it in the dark smudges under her eyes as she helped Morschell wake their Dragoneer by brutally splashing cold water into his gaping mouth. As a result, the redhead choked, sitting upright in surprise. The sudden reaction was enough to annoy Whistle. He growled threateningly before grumpily stalking off to stretch like a cat.
When he tried to complain, he instantly clamped his mouth shut by the mere looks of Luina's face. She was definitely rather grumpier this morning.
The rest of the morning was quick and silent. No one really wanted to bother Luina as she sat on the far end of the carriage. Her arms folded across her chest and her chin tucked in his scarf as she napped next to Galvus in an eerily same pose.
Morschell was boredly looking beyond the carriage and watched sand undulate beneath them from dunes to plains and then dunes again. They were supposed to arrive in Mellador by high noon but because of an unspoken race with Scott who flew on Drostan’s right flank, they arrived in a flash.
Stoic, sturdy walls jutted out from in the middle of the plains. Because of the architectural design, a bypasser would have thought it to be another great sand dune from afar. A trumpet sounded from afar, it wasn't long before they landed and were greeted by a typical Melladorian greeting.
If Scalesia greeted them like they would in a party, Blouyein amazed them with their gracefulness, Mellador surprised them with a deserted like town. They landed in front of an open wide gate, yet there were no people.
"We're here," Drostan announced, rousing Luina and Galvus from their sleep.
"Where is everybody?" Scott asked as he and Whistle landed next to Drostan. Whistle snorted ungratefully when Scott hopped off.
The moment Scott's boots touched the sand; pillars began erupting from the ground parting from each other to form a path towards the gates. Scott jumped back, alarmed.
"Calm down, my lord," Morschell sighed sadly. Luina was the only who took note of his tone.
It wasn't long before the pillars began moving like waves as it shrank and grew tall. Sand continued rolling off it as they soon dropped the pale cloaks that matched the sands around them to reveal the people of Mellador.
They were tanned, sun-kissed by the brutal afternoons like Scalesians and had jet black hair like Skullardians. The women wore thin silk, loose cream colored clothes that hung like bells on their limbs. They were bound with a shiny silver material along their abdomen, silhouetting their firm physiques. Masked by a thin veil right below their eyes, Scott couldn't help but gawk. The men wore baggy pants and leather jackets over their bare torsos. Both were adorned with silver as they jingled sonorously to the beat of their movements.
Soon enough they were paraded into the pale walls of Mellador, their dragons could easily pass through and even walk along the streets. Unlike before, the temperature was cooler within the Melladorian walls. Cheers broke out amongst the hypnotizing sound of bells and soon enough they were ushered into the Castle walls after the King of Mellador had announced their visitor’s arrival.
The Castle, like the past three castles they visited was just as every bit of a grandiose castle there would be. Amidst the expensive silver furniture, it remained similar to the Scalesian touch for they were both located in sandy areas. House colors of silver and blue adorned the pale cream walls. Dragons and knights with and without wings were carved on the high ends of the walls where it joined the ceiling. And the ceiling was an art full of paintings that depicted a Historical tale of the Melladorian Kingdom.
Drostan noted how Scott was being observant of this. Normally, the redhead would take one glance, shrug and just move on. Never wanting to be reminded of what transpired last night, he needed to. Skipping over his moments with Luina, he knew Luina was too observant for her own good. He knew something was not right with Scott, but it can not be confronted directly with him around.
He was Scott and at the same time he just wasn’t. He whistled on his own, and that was something to be aware of and Whistle was giving off curious warnings that can not go unnoticed and yet, he was still his ignorant, goofy self. It was impossible to have found someone who had a striking resemblance to his redhead protégé and have him switched out. But then again, what were the chances?
If anyone at all was scheming against them, perhaps they were being investigated about the truth of his Wind Dragon, then they needed to be cautious. What if he was being tested? It had been his lifelong commitment as a Dragoneer to venture into the world in search of a wind dragon. He would understand if the Council would declare something like this in secret. Therefore, he could not risk it.
If they ever uncovered the truth in Scott’s actions, the Council might have deemed them guilty for acting suspiciously. Why hadn’t they spoken to him personally instead of going through all this trouble then?
He needed to go to the library. Thankfully, Mellador was one of the few kingdoms who valued knowledge and wisdom and therefore valued their ever-growing collection of books. Their schedule for today was to have a welcoming banquet, a tour around the kingdom, attend the tomorrow’s Melladorian Performance and when evening comes, it was Scott’s turn to perform another aerial show.
After that, their next stop was the Kingdom of Phoen. That is when he, Drostan Xanthus, might or might not be condemned for bending the truth.
Galvus observed Drostan’s mental absence, Luina’s seasonal moodiness and Morschell’s sudden indifference as they quietly feasted with half-hearted bites. Scott seemed to be the only one in jolly spirits as he shamelessly stuffed his mouth with everything he could stab his fork with. Servants frequently passed by him to help wipe off the food bits that would stick to the corners of his mouth or fly off to his hair or clothes, but Scott did not seem to mind.
His Dragoneer’s appetite seemed to have tripled; this was unusual for the Skullardian. And despite his lord’s appetite, he would never fail to at least remember his place should he ever lose his façade. Why wasn’t he holding back now?
Perhaps this was what was in Drostan’s head. Maybe he might have noticed his protégé’s sudden change in attitude. He sighed, setting his fork and knife down.
“Have you had enough, Sir of the Noctyx clan?” the king asked without looking up from his plate.
No one seemed to have heard or if they ever did, they didn’t seem to bother. Wordlessly, Galvus turned to the King. He had a dark auburn hair that matched his beard, his skin less tanned than the townspeople and had dark brown eyes but did not glance at him once.
“No, your Highness,”
“Your companions are rather preoccupied in thoughts, are they not?” The king asked.
“Perhaps exhausted from the heat, please excuse us,” Galvus lowered his head before reaching to drink water from a goblet offered to him by a maidservant. He thanked her quietly, unaware of how she blushed when he acknowledged her presence.
The King smiled stiffly, “but of course, right after dinner you may rest,”
When Galvus looked up, he saw the King look directly at Morschell. His comrade, on the other hand, kept his eyes fixed on his plate, rolling baby potatoes from one end of his plate to another with his fork.
“Alabaster Morschell,” The King suddenly said, “being a local of this Kingdom and the brightest of our kind, I will grant you the honor of showing your comrades, mentor and Dragoneer in our humble Kingdom,”
Morschell winced painfully for a split second before struggling to maintain a calm demeanor.
“Welcome back to your home land,” the King smiled a steely smile that contrasted to his gentle intonations.
“Thank you,” he responded meekly.
That was the last conversation they had during the banquet before it finally ended.
X
“This is our market,” Morschell gestured half-heartedly with his hands outstretched and turned to leave before his group could appreciate the atmosphere. Cloth tents that were supported by some sticks with goods displayed on wooden shelves and boxes sat before their tiny one-man stalls.
Luina, Scott and Galvus quickened their pace before he stopped in front of another dome-like building, “and this is our school,”
Like earlier, he began walking again before his group even got to him. The tiniest member of their group looked impatient as he stalked off. “This,” he said with a grand swing of his arm, “is the city town square,” he didn’t even look at it, or pause to wait for them. He just walked on as if he needed to get out of there immediately.
“Morschell,” Luina finally caught up with him as she placed a firm grip of his shoulder.
“What?” he asked quietly, his gaze focused on his shoes. By then Galvus and Scott had already reached them.
“What’s the hurry?” Scott asked cluelessly.
“Nothing,” he simply side-stepped to let Luina’s hand fall off his shoulder. He straightened his coat and his back, his voice unethusiastic as ever, “shall we move on to the next landmark?”
“Okay--”
“No,” Luina interrupted Scott.
“Why not?” Scott asked.
“Not with you like this,” she told Morschell gently, “want to cool off for a bit?” Morschell shrugged. Luina sighed and gently led him to one of the metal benches nearby the grand fountain in the middle of the City Square. The ambiance was as familiar as Scalesia save for the palm trees at every street corner. There was more class in everything around them. Perhaps its simplicity, or the way people moved around them.
They watched some easily pass by them, sparing a few glances. Morschell watched how groups of people would look at him and then at Scott before whispering amongst themselves.
The moment he sat down next to Luina, he slumped, melting into the seat. Cooling down, as Luina put it, might be a good idea, but not in a public place such as this. After expressing his thoughts, they all found themselves in a tiny restaurant Morschell seemed so familiar with.
It was a quaint store in the middle of two more expensive looking ones. It had one wide window to display strangely toasted bread with grids on them topped of with white cream. The sweet aroma wafted silkily from the store as a few children laughed, holding the said pastry.
The bell chimed when Morschell stepped in followed by Luina, Galvus and Scott as they all cramped in the tiny salon. Its walls were all painted white, save for the sky blue paint behind the counter. Doilies decorated the plates of pastries sitting behind glass windows for customers to gaze from. To the side were a few tiny round tables good for two people each. The atmosphere of this quaint little shop tugged at the group’s heartstrings for it faintly reminded them of a very welcoming home.
The wild-haired, skinny teen only came to realize how tiny this shop really was, or maybe it was because Galvus was too big of a guy; a tower of meat and muscles as Professor Gondron had once put it. It had been almost a year since he has left this place and nothing had changed at all.
“Good Day m’lady!” Morschell greeted a little old plump lady with snow white hair neatly kept in place by a white bandana.
“Oh my little Ri’Emirre!” exclaimed the old woman, “it has been a while! Oh how I have missed you,” said the old lady as she stepped out from behind the counter with little shuffling gaits.
They watched the little heart-felt reunion Morschell shared with the kind old lady as she hugged him tightly into her bosom. Tears trickled down the wrinkled corners of her bright blue eyes as she sobbed in between her delighted laughters before her voice came in hushed and hurried in their own Melladorian language. Finally, she held him at an arm’s length and scrutinized him lovingly from her tiny spectacles perched at the tip of her pinched nose.
“M’lady,” Morschell grinned, returning to his old jolly self, “these are my friends, Luina, Galvus and Scott, guys meet my nana!”
“Your grandmother?” Luina presumed.
“Oh no, no, no,” the old lady smiled delightfully, “I was little Ri’Emirre’s caretaker since he was a wee chubby bundle,”
Luina assumed that Ri’Emirre was some form of endearment in the Kingdom of Mellador, she smiled cordially, “a pleasure meeting the woman who has turned my friend into a fine young man,”
Morschell burned bright red before they all laughed and they were all ushered to the limited tables his nana offered them. They were fed with sweet pastries topped off with cold, creamy goodness on their plates. Morschell’s nana left them to tend to customers that dropped by every once in a while and when there was none to serve, she would serve them more sweets until they could take no more.
“How are you feeling, Morschell?” Luina asked.
Scott was leaning back on his chair rubbing his protruding belly while Galvus maintained his composure, calmly drinking his cup of hot mint leaf tea.
“Oh I’m great!” he answered happily.
“I see,” Luina nodded slowly, allowing herself to pause for a while before speaking again, “I noticed you weren’t quite yourself since we arrived,”
“Oh,” Morschell said, his smile that once held genuine meaning instantly flickered to a glassy one, “not quite,”
Luina noticed this before letting herself to take a sip from her tea.
“You don’t like it here,” spoke Galvus, it had been more of a statement than it had been a question.
Morschell looked away, sadness filled his composure. He opened his mouth once as if about to say something before stopping himself. He sighed.
Luina held his hand firmly, startling her monocled friend, she smiled kindly to him, “you can talk to us,”
“I just want to leave soon,” he muttered before getting up from his chair so suddenly. Luina let him go as he bid his farewells to his nana and left without waiting for the rest of them.
“What’s up with him?” Scott obnoxiously arched a brow before rudely burping.
Luina watched the boy stand with his back behind the store as if waiting for them anyway. She would never forget how upset he was when the dragon egg hatched right before he even got the chance to touch it. She understood the disappointment he must have felt, he was a very good candidate and would make a great Dragoneer. Unfortunately, he did not have that much physical strength the usual Dragoneer would, nor did he have enough luck.
She watched him sigh before marching back, the bell chimed as he poked his head inside once more with a smile that struggled to stay in place, “come on guys, I’ve barely shown you half of the Kingdom,”
X
The Melladorian Library was a colossal room that had shelves upon shelves and shelves of books so meticulously situated that one might get lost if he or she were not careful. The high ceiling had a huge glass window in the very center as if letting the sun be the source of light pour into the already bright room. Scholars, students and some townspeople populated the place and still it seemed as if it still had more room to offer for the enormous kingdom.
Mellador was, after all, the father of war tactics. Their love for knowledge lay evident in the numerous limited books they had displayed for the people to see. On the second storey of the Library, in a corner where a table was solitarily situated, sat Drostan with his nose buried in the book he was reading.
Instead of accompanying Scott and his Dragoon, he spent the remaining afternoon sitting next to a pile of books of the ancient and read in their archaic writings, with the help of a language translating book open next to him. Surely they would manage without him, because Morschell was from this Kingdom anyway, there wasn’t much to worry about since the kid was responsible in all aspects that there is to him. After all, the King did grant him permission.
He turned a page and quickly scanned through its contents of doppelgangers. Yes. He clearly remembered laughing at Luina’s suggestion, but it didn’t hurt to try. It was a dark myth that people from Phoen believed in, apparently. It was about disturbed spirits who would take in the form of anyone to their liking and was capable of switching places with them if these spirits’ will power were strong.
“Oh sorry,” said a little boy, knocking over the tower of books next to the Dragoneer’s side, the child took off without looking back. He clicked his tongue and sighed before picking up the books one by one. After returning them into a neat pile beside him, he sat himself down and grabbed the next book on top.
He straightened his back and sighed as he flipped through the pages, his finger sliding through words to keep his eyes from straying. And then paused. This time, he read the ancient scriptures slowly.
Never blessed with the gift of Immortalis, darkness has filled the hearts of the Phoenicians, driving them to the forbidden knowledge of the Ancients. The mystery of Phoen lies in their unexplained supernatural abilities to connect with spirits.