Diary of an Ooze Witch (2.7-2.8) (Patreon)

(Sorry this took so long to get out. Was struggling getting into the right headspace to edit the entries to be satisfactory enough to present.)

2.7

We’ve finally made our way out of the Iron Pass and started the final stretch to Placedo. Already, the vegetation of the Ventigiore Province is more prevalent than on the other side of the pass. Rumor has it that its lush flora can be owed back to its rather torrid past of bloodshed. Once upon a time, it had been a nation that knew only war, hotly contested by the Ancient Kingdoms of Casperia and Ullah. Battles were fought and blood spilled for the land that would be Ventigiore with no clear victor. The people of the land suffered as famine struck the fields giving rise to strife and misery.

It would continue until the Great Hero Venetia rose from the turmoil and put an end to the conflict. A warlord’s daughter, Venetia despised how the kingdoms fought over her homeland and sought out allies with whom She could fend off the forces attempting to control them. Legend has it that at the height of the calamity, Venetia struck a deal with the land itself to be free of the interlopers… In exchange for her life, her soul would be woven into the very land, turning the tide of war in favor of her allies. With this good fortune, Venetia’s allies soon drove both the nations of Casperia and Ullah from their borders. In honor of Venetia’s sacrifice, the people of her homeland named their nation Ventigiore, which in the eatern dialect roughly translates to “Venetia’s Blood.”

And just like that, Casperia and Ullah ceased their campaigns, calling the lands of Ventigiore too cursed and haunted to conquer for themselves. As peace settled in, the other nations would eventually succumb to their own troubles. Casperia was absorbed by the Remian Union while Ullah would see several bloody revolutions that ended with the formation of the theocratic nation of Ulqorra. Meanwhile, Ventigiore would see their own fortunes grow as their people grew plentiful from the bounty of the land.

And as I stand upon its firmament, I can see at least that part of the legend holds true.

Jeru’s condition continues to improve as he regains the color in his cheeks and the mirth he normally possesses. Part of me thinks it’s due to the weather improving, but a more superstitious mind can’t help but think the land may have something to do with his speedy recovery. Of course, I can’t prove any of this, so I choose to stay silent on the matter and be grateful my friend is in better spirits.

Night fell before we arrived at an inn. It was a rather homely establishment off the beaten path. I suppose I should be more discerning with my choices, but after two nights spent sleeping in the rocky pass, I was willing to take a chance if it meant sleeping in a bed. The innkeeper was an older woman in a conservative blouse and shirt, her hair done up in a perfectly coiffed bun with only a few gray hairs betraying her true age… Well, that and the spectacles adorning the bridge of her nose. It didn’t stop Jeru from talking her up, trying to charm her with his special blend of wit and as he would put it, “weather beaten good looks.” It was heartening to see his need for social interaction improve with his health, even if the innkeeper turned him down gently. Her professionalism was quite refreshing.

Over the night, she treated us to a supper of stewed potatoes and beef in a thick gravy, a welcome warm meal after the miserable cold of the nights in the pass. Jeru, not one to give up, asked her about the inn itself, where the innkeeper explained that it was left to her by her husband. She went on to explain that he had died due to a plague years ago, leaving no children behind. Now alone, the innkeeper had to make ends meet in different ways. She appeared tight lipped about what those ways were, but I suspected something of a seedier nature. Regardless, Jeru and I didn’t attempt to pry as we changed the conversation and finished our meals. She remained hospitable, guiding us to our rooms in the inn. We thanked her for her generosity and told her that we would be gone by the morning.

After being shown to our room, I took stock in our situation. Jeru’s illness lost us some time, but not enough to become a problem. The offloading of some of our iron reserves would be enough to make the rest of the trip a more brisk affair. To think that we are closing in on our destination of Placedo, a city I had only heard of from my Brother’s tales. I am at once anticipating and dreading reaching there as his words painted it as both a city of wondrous industry and a den of one’s darkest desires. His exploits there could fill books worth of erotica, but I digress. I am not going there to sate my desires, but to find answers.

Perhaps I shall write more later, but I fear that sleep is calling to me. The fight to keep my eyes open is a losing battle I fear, and I should carry myself to bed before I pass out on the desk here.

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2.8

With our spirits rested and our stomachs full, Jeru and I continued our trek to the city of Placedo. The innkeeper was nice enough to offer us some freshly baked bread as thanks for keeping her company, something that we appreciated and thanked her for. It wasn’t long before we made our way back on our path toward the city with renewed vigor. The closer we got back to civilization, the more the road ways appeared maintained and stable.

It wasn’t long before we came upon other fellow travelers on our way to the city. A colorful bunch, they professed that they were a minstrel troupe looking to perform for a larger audience in Placedo. They possessed an abundance of mirth and whimsy, but I could not shake the feeling something was off about them. Jeru, always the extrovert, made fast friends with the band of musicians and entertained himself with their company, in spite of my misgivings. We decided to travel together for this leg of our journey, a decision that I would soon regret. Perhaps it was due to my naturally introverted nature, but their endless chatter drove me to distraction, grating on me as they wore their merriment on their sleeve. Jeru had no problem keeping up with their antics, enjoying their company much as he would enjoy a good tavern. I, however, was forced to bite my tongue in the matter. It didn’t dawn on me what my problems with them were until I caught one of their younger members say something in their native tongue, the Usuran tongue.

Immediately, my guard was raised as I could feel every muscle in my body tense as I recognized the language. They were Usurans, one and all. I had heard tales from my Father about his dealings and failings with their people. Hailing from the kingdom of Usura, the Usurans had a reputation as confidence men and thieves. Rumor has it that a large portion of their people was exiled from their lands by their king for some slight done upon him and the land, turning their numbers into a nomadic people overnight. A phrase used by my Father to warn me was “When an Usuran is about, check often the coins in your purse and the sanctity of your women.” Crass as it might be, his perspective was often colored by the often poor dealings he had with them, always coming away from any arrangements with them less fortunate than before.

I had no personal experience with them, but I could not help but be on high alert. The tales my Father told me had already colored my perceptions and while these travelers had done me no wrong as of yet, I could not as easily let of my suspicions. Regardless, I decided to keep to myself, trying best not to show any outward resentment, something that I could not easily hide from my friend, Jeru. Upon seeing my irritation, he decided to pull me to the side and inquire what was the root of my prickliness. At first, I attempted to wave him off and downplay my disdain, trying to attribute it to some food that might not have agreed with me. Jeru, however, knew me too well and pried at my reasoning. After some persistence from him, I eventually told him as simply as I could, “They are Usuran.”

In an instant, Jeru understood my stance; however, he did not agree with it. He called me out for being so judgmental of a people I had only just met. While Jeru could not force me to get along with them, he urged me to keep an open mind. I told him that I would try to get along with them, a lie that Jeru seems to have accepted, for better or worse. He may have nothing to lose by treating them charitably, but I had more to lose and thus, kept my reservations about me, silently keeping vigilant.

Despite our additional company, we made good time toward our goal and managed to get within sight of the city by sundown. A part of me wanted to push our luck and keep going until we were in Placedo proper, but Jeru convinced me otherwise, pointing out that there was an increase in bandit attacks lately surrounding the city and that it was more prudent to go in the morning. When asked how he came across this information, he told me that he picked it up from our traveling companions. I was doubtful about this info, owing to my earlier prejudices over the Usurans’ reputation for lying. Perhaps it was Jeru’s influence on me to give them a chance or my own cautious nature in not taking risks with our cargo, but I acquiesced to his suggestion, believing that it was not worth arguing over. His face lit up as I gave my permission for us to stay for the night, whether that was because he thought his words were getting through to me or that he wanted to get to know these minstrels more, I cannot say for certain.

We set up camp for the night and lit the campfire for the night. The minstrel troupe also set up camp and shared with us some of their wine, a comfort Jeru quickly took them up on. They grew raucous as the drink in their blood spurred them forward to make merry and play their instruments well into the night. At first, it was all well and good, but as they carried on, I found my spirits growing more annoyed by their insistence in playing into the dead of the night. Had they no sense of decency? Eventually, it became too much for me and I took refuge upon on a small hill overlooking the city, away from the endless festivities that roared in the background. As I looked at the city in the distance, wondering what awaited us there, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Unlike Jeru, I found sanctity away from others, enjoying the peace and quiet of a long, dark night. It would be this insistence on self contemplation that I would meet her.

At first, I did not notice her presence until she was practically hovering over me. Startled, I rolled to the ready and only then, by the light of the moon and distant campfire, I saw her fully. A winsome woman with swarthy features, her hair was a mass of dark chestnut curls, luscious and shiny as they draped over her back. Her skin was flawless as she wore exotic silks of crimson and gold trim that wrapped delicately around her comely form. To say that I was enraptured by her would be an understatement. Whatever sorcery she wove, it was enough to wrap me around her dainty finger as I could only leer fondly.

This was a dangerous woman.

Her lips moved as my ears prickled at the sound of her voice: An almost angelic whisper, the kind that would make one a believer. It sounded like butter slowly melted, smooth and rich. She spoke again, breaking me of my reverie as I finally registered her words. She had been asking me if she could join me on the hillside. Being the starstruck fool that I was, I gave in to her request, patting the grass beside me, enamored enough by her beauty that I forgot my earlier reservations. The woman smiled warmly at me as she sat beside me, batting her eyelashes at me in a way that stirred the deepest parts of my loins. I asked her how long she had been a part of the troupe, a question that brought a titter from her lips, as if I had made a joke to her. She didn’t bother answering, only running her hand down my arm, feeling the hardness of what muscles I had possessed. So distracting was she, I didn’t even mind her not answering my question.

Here was a woman who knew not only her worth, but how to use her wiles to make men weak. Weak in the knees, weak in the heart, weak in the mind… Weak for her. The curve of her lips, as if she were crafted from the clay of a master sculpter, were just plump enough to entice. Words slipped out as they moved with such serene grace that it ached in my heart in spite of my brain’s inability to understand them. Her lilting laughter sent shivers down my spine as I shook from my stupor and registered her words. She was making light conversation, attempts to break the ice between us. Even her words were like honeyed needles, sweet and velvety as they stung my brain a thousand times, numbing it until I was but an idiot beholden to her every whim. But it was the smile that was most devious of all, with that knowing look and a mischievous grin, it was enough to melt what was left of my mind, becoming a puddle in my head.

This was a dangerous woman.

Before I knew it, she had pressed her body against mine, leaning against my chest with all the softness a woman’s flesh could muster. I felt her hands clasp around my wrist, guiding it to her chest. My breath quickened as I could feel my heart stabbing outward, railing from within and screaming like a prisoner for escape. It took a moment before the sensation of her bosom filled my palm completely, no larger or smaller – a perfect size. If I still had my wits about me, they would have left me right then and there, emptying out of the holes in my head and pooling on the ground beside me. She tilted her head up at me, giving my eyes a clear look at her pristine face. Her cheeks were flush with warmth as her chin came to a rounded point. Nose so perfectly shaped as it sloped elegantly from her face. And then there were her eyes, orbs of vibrant emerald that seemed to glow ethereally from behind her gentle gaze, that truly captured me, turning me into a slave devoted entirely to them. My body grew rigid, robbed of any motivation to move, basking in that single moment, praying it would never end.

It was my hesitation that she used to leverage herself onto me. Unable to contest her, I found myself on my back as she pinned me down with the ferocity of a wild beast bearing down on her prey. Dear Gods, I was her prey, and I desperately wanted nothing more than for her to tear into me. At that moment, I had no desires of my own aside from pleasing her in all of my being. There was no Placedo, no Steel Family Business, no maddened Brother for me to avenge. There was only me and her, our bodies entwined as she straddled my chest, letting her attire fall to the wayside, revealing her bared breasts to me in their entire splendor beneath the light of the crescent moon.

This was a dangerous woman.

And I didn’t care.

I wanted, no, I NEEDED her. More desperately than the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins, the flesh on my bones, even the fire in my soul. In that moment, all paled next to her and the touch of her flesh. In that moment, our formed meshed, I was complete, whole. It was as if I had finished a grueling adventure and finally been rewarded with her presence, her being. I was bound to her in ways that no man had been before or ever would again. Nothing else mattered in that instance. Had the world been sundered in twine, I would die with a smile on my face. Drifting in the blessed nothingness where our bodies were one, I succumbed to sleep as the warmth of her body lulled me to my slumber.

When next I woke, I was naked on the hillside, my body ached from head to toe. Panic overtook me as I desperately searched for my clothes before one of the other travelers saw me in such a disgraceful state. I was fortunate enough to find them again and haphazardly dressed myself before rejoining Jeru, who was stationed beside a dwindling campfire, his only company the easterly wind on the breeze.

I asked him what became of the troupe that had camped with us, only to receive a shake of the head from him as my response. Perhaps I was still under the effects of my experience the other night or that I was too tired to follow up, but I accepted Jeru’s response readily enough. Even as I write this, I cannot fathom what might have transpired.

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