The TwiceBorn

There Are No Honest Prayers Here

'Everything is only as it is."--Urushibara

Alora made her way towards the feasting table and accepted a mug of shadowjack proffered by a fauning hand.  The bitter liquid burnt a path down into her stomach where it coiled and pulsed with fire.  A tiny voice from inside told her she’d better watch how much she drank but she didn’t listen very closely.  Nowhere was it written her fall from grace was supposed to be accepted…well…gracefully.

Several of the night hags had discarded their robes and were wildly dancing about.  Their forms shimmered in the heat of the bonfire and took on a soft reddish glow in Alora’s eyes but she wasn’t sure if that was the magic that had been set loose or the effects of the shadowjack which,she noticed,didn’t taste nearly as bad as she’d first thought.

Yzebel preened and giggled as she watched her Clan.  She reminded Alora of some ancient overgrown child, clapping and laughing with glee at all the antics.  And what had perhaps been promised.  It was obvious that the hag expected to step up as Alora, so ungracefully, stumbled down.

“And perhaps she will.” Alora thought as she turned away.  Her heart beat slowly and painfully in her chest and she could feel another knot of tears threatening to leak down her face. 

Could she become a lesser demon?

It was possible, she supposed.  At this point, anything was.  An insistent tug at her boot caused her to look down into Blixen’s worried face.  He held an earthen jar aloft and attempted to smile.

“Yzebel sent me over with the oil.  She wanted me to tell you not to spare any.”

Alora snatched the jar from his hand and walked around to the far side of the blaze and away from Yzebel’s probing eyes.  She quickly stripped off her garments and shivered in the night air.  Dropping her clothes in a heap on the ground, she narrowed her eyes at Blixen as he began strutting back and forth in front of her. His little bob tail swished back and forth at a mad rate.

“You know, Alora The Twiceborn, this entire incident saddens me and all  but…”  he paused to pull his little apple face into a parody of grief.  Alora remained silent and watched him.  Emboldened by her silence, he continued.

“…I truly think it would be a shame for you to be vanquished by Yzebel without experiencing some of my greater charms.”  He finished and gave her a bold smile.

Alora snorted with contempt as she sat down on the ground and struggled to pull her boots off.  “Having to deal with Blixen on an extended basis should be punishment enough for any transgression.” She thought as she pulled and yanked.  Small bloated goblins crept from the underbrush and rolled about ecstatically on her discarded clothing.

“I haven’t been vanquished yet, Blixen,” She replied. She eyed the little goblins as they rolled and wiggled about.  “Please keep them off my clothes.  Their musk stains the leather.”

Blixen trotted over and backhanded the little goblins off into the brush.  His beady eyes honed in on her as she struggled to get her boots off and one small hand dropped to below his waist and moved up and down, slowly at first and then faster.

“Get off my clothes!”  She snapped as she snatched him up by his silk jacket. With an underhand toss Blixen sailed off into the dark. Alora watched as he landed with a muffled thump. And she had to admit, the sound of his fat little body and its impact against the hard dirt cheered her up a bit.

The underbrush erupted with cackles and snorts as all the goblins and imps that had crept closer to watch The Twiceborn saw Blixen’s mishap.  Blixen clambered to his feet and wrapped protective hands around his phallus.