Kiyomi - The Vixen and the Wyrm (part 2)

Description: After Walter's defeat at the hand of Kiyomi, the Kitsune decided to grant Walter some mercy instead of leaving him to bleed to death in this secluded forest. He wakes up in a cave, God knows how long after their fight, his wounds tended to, wrapped in bandages to make up for the many slashes of katana his body received. His caretaker explains to him why she has decided to give him a second chance and more...

COMBATSYS: Walter has started a fight here.

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Walter           0/-------/-------|

COMBATSYS: Walter has ended the fight here.

Was this the end for Father Walter? To be left, injuried and bleeding himself out in the middle of nowhere, in a cold forest near a secluded village? Everything faded to darkness when Kiyomi's bleeding wounds had the best of the draconic Darkstalker : when the cumulated fatigue and blood loss got the better of him.

The Vixen was left in a no better state -- slightly better, if nothing else, but she was fortunate enough to have her pack lurking by and close. Dame Renard, after all, was the silver tongue and ambassador of the Children of the Night when they had to deal with outsiders and humans.

Walter would keep no memories of the events after the clash with the Kitsune, nor any hint how long has passed before he regains consciousness. His wounds were quite dire, after all : Kiyomi rarely fights not to kill. It was in her nature. A cruel and ruthless assassin to her cause.

The only thing that might have spared Walter a cruel death is his inhuman nature, enough to stir up some compassion in the vixen, enough to spare him this fate.

For now...

When he comes back to his senses, Walter finds himself within a small cave, shielded from the elements. He was lying on a soft pelt, and the cave felt warm thanks to a fire that chased the cold. A soft aroma was in the air : a mixture of herbs mixed with the ashes of the burning wood. The curling smoke leaves the cave by its entrance with no danger of suffocation for the two occupants.

Walter had been stripped of his clothings, for the most part -- his injuries partly treated by some bandages and palms to help the wounds to heal. His body might be numb with pain, but the pain was worst around his abdomen, where Kiyomi had impaled her. It would take more time to heal properly.

A kettle has been placed above the fire, with snow melted into boiling water for tea, considering the various cups, whisks and other tools that are waiting. Kiyomi sits on a pelt of her own, no longer wearing her kiomono. Her tails sway and dance across her body, keeping her warm as well as hiding most of her flesh even though one can see a glimpse of her alabaster skin every now and then, as well as her own bandage.

The woman seems busy sewing her kimono : the fight with Walter had left a few holes into it and she has decided to patch it up, it seems. With a bit of luck, Walter might even be able to see various tribal looking tattoos and marks across her torso. Tattoos that seems to represent the dark tapestry, the moon, as well as wolves and beasts.

Father Walter finds himself dreaming. Warmth fills the air in the large cave. Piles of gold, money, and other stolen valuables lay everywhere. Worse things: old bones, weapons, and various remains of the victims of the dragon-kin that dwell within. But the young Walter does not care. The still-tiny boy of a being is cradled in his Mother's arms. For all of her savagery, the pure greed and death she has wrought, the beautiful mother wyrm looks upon her child with endless love. He's cradled possessively. Of all the treasures, this is her greatest.

Her lips move. Walter is yet too young to understand. But then she tenses, and a loud crack leans out. Blood splatters everywhere.

The priest's eyes shoot up. Every muscle tenses, a horrid mistake in his condition. Teeth grit, as the nightmare slowly loosens its grip as pain causes him a near-strangled cry. It all but flattens the priest back upon the soft pelt that's become his bed. Slowly, very slowly, he relaxes again. Should Kiyomi hear his small cry? It's not the first he's had in his fevered dreams. The swift and cunning foxess truly would have cut his life short, had she not taken and given him mercy. Only her medicines and expert job of bandaging him has kept him from passing out in the renewed pain in his abdomen.

Walter's hazey mind finally registers that he is in fact still alive somehow, he is in a warm, comfortable place far too reminiscient of the cave where he was born, and that he is about as comfortable as a man with his injuries can get. It's right then that the smell of fire and herbs in the air has him moving his head. At least that isn't paining him.

Even injured, the vixen is positively radiant. Walter can't help but follow the movements of those fluffy brushes. Pure alabaster skin flashed is a glimpse of heaven to the young wyrm-kin, his weakened senses already starting to be lost in hypnotic sways, beautiful tattoos, and a person simply possessed of true grace. Eyes trace those tattoos, burning the sight before him into his mind, and every moon and mark he's graced with into memory. For the second time since meeting her, he's awestruck, and without bearing the steel of his conviction, he cannot fight against it. There's more than a few long minutes as he simply ceases to fight, and lets go. He's too weak right now to do otherwise.

The wide-eyed priest for his part is the picture of draconic strength and grace. Lean, well-built, if slightly dainty even with his clawed hands, his masculenity is undeniable. For such a lean frame, the muscle of constant travel and fighting can be seen along his fleshy abs before the rest of his chest, thighs, and much of his legs fade into the scales that serve as all but armor to the man. Those dextrous hands and toned legs end in the claws of hand and feet alike. His own tail has lazily drooped beside him, and those wings spread in all their golden glory as though in flight.

"...Angel." Mutters Walter despite himself, still transfixed. It seems he's yet to notice his own state, but the wounded priest is a bit distracted right now between vixens, the exhaustion of battle, and her numbing herbs definitely effecting his head. Those exposed draconic eyes have a slightly glassy look to them, an exhausted, almost docile beast for the moment.

Considering the injuries Kiyomi had inflicted on the holy man, despite the treatment she had given him, she would not be surprised if he didn't make it through. After all, he had been losing blood copiously due to her precise strikes. It would be a shame to lose a brother, but Walter had clearly chosen his side when they both fought. Kiyomi would have no remorse or guilt if he died here.

She spares a glance in his direction, hearing his silent groans and squirms as he dreams. She can only wonder of what, but Lune had told her near death experiences were often the most revealing and life changing experience one could have. Kiyomi can only hope this will help Walter, if he makes it and survives his injuries, to see the truth of her words.

The vixen's concentration at the task at hand was absolute : she sewed her kimono with grace, her tails dancing slowly with their enthralling movements. Only his sharp cry makes her stop what she is doing. She glances in Walter's direction when he jerls and wakes up. His ragged breathing causes her to put her kimono aside for the moment.

She crawls closer to him, a soft and motherly hush escaping her throat as she presses her hand gently against Walter's chest to try and make him lie down, "You need to rest.." She whispers to him softly. Her hand then goes up, gently caressing his cheek and face, letting her fingers trail off. Her features were soft and angelic... Hard to tell if what he sees, what his sense tells him of her, this immaculate and alluring beauty was truly hers, or a trickery created by her on his weakened mind.

She offers him a smile and says, "It seems Dame Chance has smiled upon you. For today is not the day you die," Kiyomi adds with a slow nod. Kiyomi hums softly as she feels the priest fever and moves away out of sight. When she returns, she presses a cold soaked cloth against his temple, and then brings a small cup to Walter's lips, nursuring him by slowly tilting it so he can drink it, "Here, drink.." She says in a soft, authoritary voice.

For Walter, the dream is a glimpse back into a barely remembered past. Even as he's enraptured by the perfection of his newfound caretaker does a mixture of longing for what once was, what could have been alongside pure sadness. Though he constantly decries his own birth and those who birthed him, just having even a glimpse of his Mother is a gift that tears at him. Nevermind how she died.

Should he manage to leave after all of this, God help him, he is going to punch the man who raised him in the face. Thankfully the old priest is a warrior. It's a good excuse.

Now being leaned over by the vixeness, her hand gently pushing him back and her voice once more having that loving, motherly tone, the male finds himself utterly unresisting. Still half drawn into his old dream, he couldn't think of disobeying. Particularly with how injured and fevered he still is. The touch upon cheek and chest has him shivering, not out of cold, but out of appreciation for warmth, beauty, and stress leaving the body. His tense muscles slacken somewhat. His labored breathing slows to slightly more normal levels.

Eyes close for a moment as some small amount of his wits and awareness return, summoned with almost visible effort in those eyes of his. A leaf could probably knock him unconscious from the way he occasionally twitches.

It's about then that he flushes scarlet in the face, and not from the fever. Is that a nosebleed? The wyrmkin tries to cover himself with his tail for some modesty, but there's little use. That scaled appendage of his rises half an inch, then flops back down. No, there's not even the strength to do that much. Embarrassment and a bit of humiliation creeps into his features. This dragon has been utterly defeated.

At the least he's getting a cool cloth. It's soothing. Kiyomi might note how those eyes of his try to look away from her, a chivalrous notion utterly destroyed by physical and mental weakness alike. That kitsune aura has him rightly gripped by now.

"God at times is generous, even towards those who do not deserve it. However, it seems He has had the assistance of my opponent. Mysterious ways indeed." Those eyes grow into momentary clarity. There's still no hatred, no condemnation for the woman. For now, his feelings on their conflict remain the same. But so too is there utmost respect in his gaze.

With quite some effort, his arms lift, mostly out of stubborn draconic pride than anything else. The priest slowly sips until it is gone, the liquid a boon to his parched throat.

"Dame Renard. I am humbled by your mercy, my Lady. However, I am puzzled. Why?" It's an honest question.

A pause, and a sigh. For one moment he manages to break that spell woven over him.

"I owe you my life. Should I survive and recover, ask of me anything that does not violate my vows or harm the innocent, and it shall be done, or my life spent in the attempt, thus do I swear before the Almighty. Debts are to be repaid." Offers the wyrmkin in a solemn promises. For lack of his cross, his hand makes a feeble sign of the same.

Then, his strength recedes a bit, and he's back to a weakened, blushing darkstalker. For all of his confidence in battle and honorable ways, women, especially beautiful ones, are not his best topic.

The woman watches over Walter, assessing his expression. The sudden blush on his cheeks and the way he averts his gaze from her, the slight note of embarassment on his features make the Kitsune giggle. A melodious and short laughter expression her amusement at his reaction.

The woman rises up to her full height and she strides back to her own pelt, the tails swaying back and forth and doing a relatively poor job at fully concealing her feminine curves. Fortunately, she had bandages of her own that gave her the missing part of modesty she had to make the sight truly sultry or erotic. "Have they taught you to be ashamed of physical attraction, Sir Walter?" The Kitsune asks with an hint of playfulness in her voice, "To shaun something so natural as desire and lust?" She asks, glancing over her shoulder at him.

Though despite her teasing, she seems at least aware of his discomfort at the situation and she takes her garment. The woman lets it slide on her body, the tails disappearing a moment underneath it before they reappear in a hole that was particulary designed for them. She fastens the kimono and adjusts the obi, the large piece of cloth meant to fasten the kimono. She wasn't done fully sewing it, but it would do for now, most of it was patched.

She remains silent a moment after his question, as if pondering the answer. She glances back at him, a warm smile curled on her lips as she whispers back, "I do not take away the life of those like us... Not needlessly," She says, "I believe you have been misguided during your life, as I have in my youth, by humans who did not understand our nature and who feared it,"

Once clothed, she slowly sits down on her heels and hands on her lap. She stares at him with a benelovant look on her face that seems impossible for such a deadly assassin... then again, deception and trickery were Kiyomi's innate nature. "You deserve a second chance in life, I am sure you will meditate on this... And hopefully, one day, your eyes will be opened, and you will learn to tame and understand your nature, rather than fear it and remain a slave to it,"

She tilts her head and then asks, "I do not have any food, but I can offer you some tea -- I am quite talented at making matcha tea," Kiyomi offers.

The wyrmkin could certainly use a cold shower right now. That giggling is /not/ helping, his gaze locked upon each tail's sway and those lovely tattoos. The idle thought of just what it'd be like to trace each and every one of them crosses his mind just before the beautiful vixen sits back down. Something of what he's thinking may just cross his features in a fit of instinct-born truth.

For all that Walter Bardsley is honest to others, he is certainly not honest to himself. A fatal flaw perhaps worth exploiting to the cunning vixen.

"Nnn. Lust is a sin, to lose oneself in desire and passion for another..." His throat moves in a gulp, eyes gazing for just a moment in an entirely unknightly fashion upon Kiyomi before pride reasserts itself. A sigh escapes him.

"It is unbecoming of one who would be a knight." Pause. For all of his words, his more free mind appreciates beauty.

"A sin I oft fail in warding away. Your tattoos are beautiful. I...perhaps..." Those words end in a jumble, and he lets them die out.

With the vixen clothed, he seems certainly more comfortable, less lost in rapture. Staring into her eyes as she answers his question, he smiles.

"Were it that mercy was common. And I can hardly complain in not being dead. For all that I would die for my faith, I find that corpses do little to help others." A bit of black humor and a smirk. Seems the tea has helped him at least get some of his attitude back.

"Misguided, or saved? Or some mix of both? Do not think me so foolish as to not know that my teacher's act of not slaying me in my mother's arms was not a calculated one. But without such, I would not know God." That ever-present faith resurges in his voice, likely a vast majority of the odd strength of spirit that's allowed him to pull through after such a deadly battle.

He then relaxes. "...Forgive me. I will despoil your kindness and hospitality with words fit for the battlefield." Despite that mask of warmth and kindness he so often wears, his blood lends a certain hidden wrath, peaking out more in his weakened state. That prideful roar of his voice barely recedes in his apology, replaced with shame.

"That much I shall do. At the last moments of our battle I very nearly lost myself. What strength is there in allowing a beast unchained without control? You have shown me much, and taught me much as a knight, even if you did not intend so in quite that regard. I must grow stronger. I am pathetically, horridly /weak/." Frustration is easily found in his voice.

A shake of his head, a frustrated little hissy reptilian nose, and that tail of his finally lashes a bit before he smiles.

" are a bloody saint, Dame Renard. Cease, you are fit to steal my heart and soul at this rate." Teases the priest as he accepts.

Silence, and then he ponders. "Dame Renard. I suppose you have some knowledge of myself now. May I ask of you? Your life? I find myself curious. Before the Lord I swear this is not some ploy to find weakness in your...purpose. Whatever may come between us after this day, I find your company most enjoyable. It's a rare thing to find strength, beauty, honor, grace in the same person. It is a memory I wish to hold to." Asks the priest finally, revealing naked curiousity on his face. For now, he's not playing the world-saving knight, but instead a good guest and companion to the woman who spared him.

"What is a sin, but an invention of man to turn man from his very own nature," The Kitsune answers softly. She closes her head and shakes her head, "Temptation and excess comes when one attempts to deny its true nature," The woman says, waving her hand up, "How often have I seen infants, succumbing to gluttonery, because they do not know satiety," A tone of melancholy crosses her face and intonation, most likely being reminded of some situation she already faced in her life.

The woman turns her gaze back at Walter, her lips curling into a smile, "Desire and passion are natural, Sir Walter -- they are necessary for our survival. I dread to think of a life without passion," A visible shiver seems to run down the spine of the vixen and she shakes her head to perish the thought. A wry smirk spreads on her lips though, the vixen shifting her posture a bit, the tails curling up in an alluring and sensual manner, meant to enhance her feminine curves. The vixen is well aware of that captivating effect her beauty has and she seems to find some pleasure in bewitching the man of faith, constantly tempting him gently, as if trying to teach him his lusts are nothing to be feared or ashamed of, teaching him about them.

"Alas, this is your problem -- so quick to condemn something, yet how do you know it is reprehensible if you have never given in?" The woman moistens her lips and tilts her head to one side, "Lust is only the result of constantly repressed desire and passion," Her expression becomes a bit more serious though, "I truly grieve for you, all those self inflicted mutilation of your soul, all for what? Purity...? Redemption...? Do you think suffering and enduring those temptation really helps anyone? Does your God enjoy watching you suffer, and constantly pushing you through ordeals?" The vixen heaves a sigh and adds, "The life of a faithful seems more like a curse than a blessing to me,"

When Walter apologizes to her, the Kitsune's lips curl into a playful smile. She reaches out for her sheathed blade and she uses it like a stick, bringing it to Walter's abdoment, pressing it against his wound. The pressure causes pain to course through his body -- a cruel and painful reminder of his current condition : that he's as defenseless as a kitten right now, "I have managed to tame the mighty beast that you are, haven't I?" She says, before she lets go of his injury and pulls the blade back to her side, "Why wouldn't you be able? If only you would try to understand it, rather than let it get a hold of you when you are pushed to your limits,"

The woman takes the kettle that has been keeping water warm. She pours some water into a small bowl that had some matcha green tea into it, and then uses her whisks to prepare the concoction. A speciality from her native land.

As she whiskes the mixture and water into a sort of green paste, Kiyomi answers, "You said it yourself -- perhaps I am your Angel, Sir Walter," Her voice is warm and soothing, no hint of malice in her intonation. She lets her words trail off, not adding anything to it.

She lifts the bowl up to her lips, to inhale its aroma. She rests it down and pours some more water, to finish the tea, whisking it some more to dilude the paste into the water to make the tea, "A man's history is his own only," Kiyomi retorts, "That much I have learned through my travels," She admits, "Though I am willing to share my history with you," She adds, "What is it you want to know about me, Sir Walter?" She lifts her gaze up and smiles at him : an honest and gentle smile, enough to show she saw no offense in his inquery.

His stubborn nature, and years upon years of brainwashing raise their head. "Sin /is/ the very nature of man. A lack of discipline and inner strength when we fall to our knees in desperation of the cruelty of the world we have made for ourselves causes us to succumb. Unleashing our innermost nature without care upon the world invites nothing but destruction! To constantly strive to sate those things is insanity itself that leads one only deeper into the burning fires of hell!" Counters the priest once more, not at all yet convinced of the truth of the vixen's words.

But he sighs, eyes clothing. He /thinks/ for a moment.

"But you hold a shred of truth. Passion can be turned to holy works. But like all things, it must be wielded with purpose and chains of duty unyielding to the greatest of men and animals." Offers the wyrmkin, tail flicking suddenly, mostly to himself.

Another small seed awaiting fruit. For a small moment even the alluring vixen doesn't touch him, lost inwards. That doesn't last long when she shifts. A long stare, bordering on a leer, before he gives a long breath. A weak hand goes to his neck, as if to adjust his collar, only to remember his own state. Licked lips and those words at first don't help matters.

"You vixens are crafty little minxes!" His tone makes it almost one of envy or desire rather than an insult mixed with all of his repressed frustrations.

His gaze hardens for a moment. His clawed hand twitches, but without weapon or strength, he can do nothing against words near to a slight against his faith.

"My God is one that weeps for us! He gives us our ordeals to overcome that we may grow stronger, surer in our belief and conviction, better able to steel ourselves against what we have wrought! That I suffer for every mistake, every manipulation that has cost human and darkstalker alike lives by my hand is nothing more than just retribution!"

It seems the vixen has a /lot/ of work to do on this one if she truly wants to win him over.

Then there's a sheathed weapon to his side. He cries out in pain, writhing beneath her cruel lesson. When she retreats, for a moment, he's once again reduced to a wyrm. Yet instead of the violent, brutal pride and strength, there's instead a weak, pathetic lizard brought low by a superior hunter. That draconic pride is wounded as its body is, tail tucking in a submissive gesture towards the victor.

Human frustration returns a moment later.

"...I see that you do not spare the rod." Quips the priest, not quite pouting, but close.

"Fine. Point made!" Pause. He slowly calms.

"Perhaps...could the way my body was made, was offered...perhaps God intended..." Doubt for once is naked in his voice, as for the first time in his life, he questions whether or not his blood is truly so tainted. Could all of those who raised him truly have been wrong?

His reprieve comes in a cup of tea that's taken, and he sips at the drink. That face of his flushes again in a cute little blush.

"Shall you then pillow my head upon your most fluffiest of wings, oh mischievious of angels?" Counters the priest, utterly unable to parry her wisdom here, with humor. It's almost defensive.

"And often one learns best from the stories of others. Where were you born? Were you always this way, as I? From whence did those curious skills of yours and that great conviction come?"

The woman digilently whisks the tea with her instruments until it comes a green liquid. She continues until she is truly content with the texture : making such a tea was an art she was taught in her younger age which she seems to find some pride in doing.

She rises up and goes to his side to offer him the cup of tea. She sits there on her heels, hands on her waist as she stares at him more closely, perhaps expecting some sort of reaction from her tea, hard to tell. Her lips curl into a playful and gentle smile as some of her tails purposely sway and move closer to him, grazing his scaley body. She leans over and approaches one hand to cup Walter's cheek in her palm, leaning closer, to tails still brushing his side, "Wouldn't you love this blissful comfort? The touch of my fluffy fur against your skin, the warmth of my flesh..." She says in a sultry, alluring voice. She lets her hand wanders down on his neck, her fingers grazing his skin as they down his chest, "An angel of temptation, an angel of sin... Another ordeal sent to you by your God..." She bites her lips in a sensual gesture and approach closer to Walter's face, her left hand reaching out for the cup of tea he had in his hand to pull it aside. She lifts her left hand up to caress his cheek and she whispers softly to his ears, "Man fears what he does not understand and constantly strives to control his fear,"

She leans in closer to press her lips on the side of his head to give a soft kiss. The Kitsune felt she was, and probably was, in total control of Walter due to his current condition. It showed in the confidence that exuded from her. She found pleasure in tempting him, showing him how restrained he was compared to the freedom the Kitsune enjoyed. Would she rape him? Never, though the thought might cross the draconic man's mind.

"Lack of will turn man into a beast, and man fears the endeavor of the beast, for he does not comprehend its nature." She gives another soft kiss, this time on his cheek before she moves her head back. Her lips curl into a smile and she cups both of Walter's cheek, forcing him to look at her, "But it is part of man, for a man without will is but a beast. Chaining his nature, he believes it will iron his will, make him stronger, but it only weakens him,"

Her tail flails back and forth at his side, gently, offering him that fluffy pillow momentarily at his side, "To tame lust, and control your urges, you must first give in to them to learn to control them," The woman smiles and tilts her head to one side, an expresison of amusement on her face, "Repressing will only make the temptation harder,"

She moistens her lips and slowly pulls away, "Your flush, the shame on your cheek so common to humans, you desire me and hate the lustful thoughts that crossed your mind," The vixen smiles and says, "I see no shame in this, accept those thoughts. Yours, no matter how hard, will always echo in your mind, no matter how hard you repress them. I acknowledge mine, and thus, can control them,"

She rises up and goes back to her tea preparation to pour herself a cup, her intonation less lustry and sensual, more factual, "It takes time for your mind and body to realize they are no longer restrained by your Will and for the temptation to stop. Only then do you truly master your instincts,"

She takes the cup of tea and brings it to her lips, sipping her tea. She smiles -- obviously content with how her tea turned out. She still has some human emotions after all : pride seems to be one of them, even if it's only in something as simple as tea making. "It is a long sotry," Kiyomi says with a slow nod of her head, "Strong convictions require time, and experience to become unyielding and unwavering like the mountains," Kiyomi says, "I was born in a small village in Japan and I was raised in the traditionnal way,"

Her gaze seems distant, lost in her tea, as if she was recalling an age from a distant past. A melancholic smile spreads on her face, "I had the luck of being born without any abnormal physical features, at first... The tails and ears came with age,"

There's certainly an effect of the tea the Kitsune has offered over, drained almost ravenously. Their battle has left him in need of such sustenance, and it makes the effects of the tea all the more powerful. His already weakened mind grows more relaxed, all of that lingering self-hatred easing as he finds his mind almost starting to drift. It's about then that his skin flushes just a bit more, and not out of sickness. His breathing picks up, heart beats faster and more evenly, amongst other particularly noticable effects.

The tea certainly helps to keep him functioning properly, the fever having more than once threatened to still both. And it makes his already utterly pliable mind and body completely open to the vixen.

That luxurious fur graces his sides, and the priest visibly quivers at every touch. His gaze settles on her lips, thoughts all but laid bare to the vixen so close. Enraptured in mind and now body, that cupping hand is pressed into with his warm cheek. She offers her temptations, a true angel of sin, and Walter has no defense. His tongue wets his lips nervously, not yet answering her words and even wisdom. Even as she enflames his passion, stoaking that fire, his conscious mind listens. Some small nugget of truth is firmly implanted in his brain.

"I...will overcome thi...ahh..." HIs voice trails off as his chest is gently grazed, neck leaning back as she feels his soft skin and the small patch of scales there. Pulse quick, he finds himself biting his tongue to try to regain some measure of self control. It lasts until those soft lips press to his head. Looking her in the eyes briefly, it's a burning look of desire. The poor man has finally given in. There's no strength in him to simply ravish the beauty as his wyrmkin blood screams for him to do. His look darkens, and with visible effort, he once more tries to chain the beast.

The beast softens, a weak animal before a creature that has proven both her strength, and her superiority. It's a submissive look indeed, and his tail gently grasps for one of her own, urging, almost pleading.

It makes her words all the more striking. "You..." His pride breaks for a moment, some small doubt reasserting itself oh-so-strongly. That tail offered to him is pressed against with a cheek, his own lips touching the soft, fluffy fur. Hands reach feebly to gently touch her now kimono-clad side. A deep breath.

"I..." That cocky little tilt of her head. It's infuriating and loveable at the same time.

The resistance dies out. "I want you. God forgive me, but if I had the strength..." Again his words trail, some small shame in them, at what his blood wants.

Time for honesty. "May I stay with you this night?" An almost too-formal request. It seems, for now, the angel has won.

"If I wish to hold my convictions, to do /good/...I cannot be this weak, and let what lives within be such a detriment, such a powerful enemy. I cannot purge it. But, perhaps, I can come to an understanding of myself, of what lies within." Admits the man, some small revelation admitted in a moment of weakness and defeat beneath the kitsune.

He listens as she moves away, a smile once more coming to him. Though that burning gaze remains, he manages to take in her story with rapt attention.

" mistreated when you gained them?" Asks the man gently, sympathy in his gaze. He knows that cruelty well, and it shows on his face. Though he serves them, he hasn't been immune to humanity's hatred.

The vixen took amusement in playing the game of seduction with this man. Despite his age, he was a neophyte in the matter, like a boy in his puberty who tries to resist his newfound lust, who did not understand the new signs of his body. Instead of learning what is natural, Walter had been taught by his tutor to ignore this burning passion inside of him.

It obviously saddens the vixen to see something like that. Though there's something blissful about showing the vigorous young wolves about the pleasure of life : what better guide could there be to such a thing than a mature, confident and experiment partner?

All Kiyomi wanted to do was show him, in the end, how much of a slave he was to his lust. That his way of trying to chain the beast only made it stronger and that, in the end, it is impossible to fight against one's nature eternally. Her tails sway back and forth behind her as she hears those words : 'I want you'. Her lips curl into a pleased and victorious smile. Was there truly a better compliment than to admit to a woman she is desirable?

"If only you had the strength," Kiyomi replies softly, letting her words trail off, as if to make him think of what could have happened if that was the case. She turns her gaze away and adds, "Had you consumed this burning desire inside of you, you would have felt only shame, guilt and remorse afterward," Kiyomi says with a slow nod.

There was no judgement in her voice though, as if she stated merely the future. Her lips curl into a soothing smile, "You can never hope to control your lust and desire, if you repress it. I listen to my urges, and take pleasure when I wish, but in the end, I control them. Do I feel desire toward you? Yes, however, I can control myself. You must learn to attune what you'd call your 'beastial' nature and your 'human' nature into one entity, Sir Walter, instead of trying to have your human nature suppres and take over the other,"

Kiyomi closes her eyes and she lifts her cup to her lips, sipping her tea a moment, as if pondering Walter's question, "Yes, you may -- though expect nothing out of me," She opens her eyes, as if to gauge his reaction, her face showing the empathy toward the denied pleasure after she had tempted him so. Though he'll probably understand after what she had just said, "When you will be ready, when you will accept your lust as part as yourself, then I could show you, the bliss and pleasure of life, but for now..." She shakes her head slowly, "When that day comes, and you come to me, on your own terms, seeking it, then you will find it,"

A soft chuckle escape her throat, showing the same empathy for Walter's situation, as if she knew the torments she was inflicting him, "Forgive me for being so cruel, Sir Walter, but it is an important lesson... You are like a cup -- I have pourred so much desire into it, it reached your limit. No matter how 'strong' of will you become, this limit will always exist, unless you learn to accept desire and feel no shame from it,"

Her intonation shows though that this subject is closed. No matter how much Walter would beg, or demand it, she would not change her mind. She simply sips her tea silently and comments, "When I find myself troubled, I have found out that a cup of tea always helps me," A silent invitation to find some recomfort in the warm breuvage. A poor consolation.

"We've all been mistread in a way in our youth, this is what defines us as Children of the Night, denied in a way by those who feared and did not understand us," Kiyomi replies, "I was fortunate though, most of my childhood was uneventful. I learned tea preparation, caligraphy... Everything a young girl should," Her lips curl into a warm smile at the thought, "The blissful ignorance of youth though : when I grew my first tail. It was not a problem to me, but my mother tried to show me how to hide it, conceal it, much as she did with hers..."

A weary saddness seems to rest heavily on her shoulders suddenly. She lowers her gaze and says, "They call us Yokai, in Japan. Evil spirits, I did not control my powers like my mother did, and eventually, the villagers knew there was an evil spirit in their village,"

Lips curl, the poor wyrmkin utterly defeated by the wiles of the vixen before him. But he can't deny what he's been keeping locked away, not now, not after so much pain and his near-death. Walter shudders before his healer and near-slayer, eyes bright, hopeful, and oh-so-eager. Truly, he's lost utterly, in body, mind and spirit.

A fact that is then recounted to him in the worst way. Before an angel of seduction, she slides so smoothly into the role of prophet and teacher alike. Walter's face and body visibly change, from that eager young thing about to quench a burning desire, to the realization that what Kiyomi states is true. He would enjoy the act. But the pious man would hate himself for that moment of weakness. Frustration mounts, the denied wyrm raking claws feebly in the ground, tail lashing as he looks upon the vixen in anger before fading into something that's as close to begging as a proud creature of a dragon can. A thing that hoards and takes, it nevertheless acknowledges the strength of the vixen. It's in a great sense cornered, powerless, a display that the vixen can offer, and then take away at a moment's notice.

Walter gives a frustrated cry, before slumping. Very much worked up, his only solice is that the cruel denial turns to an offer. When he could accept the sin he denies into his very being and come for her.

"You..." He starts, somewhere between angry and exhasperated.

"Little teasing vixen! /Damnit/ Dame Renard!" He curses at her. There's the inevitable reaction of one not at all used to being filled to the breaking point. Really, it's a sin she could have twisted and crushed him with. Perhaps she even has.

"I...the only reason I fell for you is because I am weakened. And not firm enough of faith!" Tries the priest in protest, almost reactionary, as if trying to convince himself. Or perhaps restore wounded pride. Man and dragon within, pride is difficult to resist.

"But, perhaps...could my blood truly be turned from this ravenous creature to

to a part of myself?" Questions the pious man to himself. So far, all he has known is that his parents were monsters of the truest form. And so, like his caretakers, he decided that he was a monster. He's never truly questioned it. Even enflamed passion cannot ward away the sudden inner conflict and even despair. They intwine, and the priest shudders. Only the offered cup of tea gives him enough resolve to compose himself and not break down before Kiyomi.

The tea is devoured with indecent haste for the excellence of its taste. The dragon-priest then proceeds to bite into and through the cup as he unleashes his frustrations in what little petulant violence he can eek out at this point.

Then, with a scowl of a younger soul both irritated and yet /thinking/ of what an older soul has said, he lets out a draconic huff. There's the tiniest flash of gold from his mouth when he does so.

Sympathy returns, however. "My condolences on behalf of the humans there." He's a priest, he can at least try to apologize for them, even if it won't ever be enough. His eyes say he knows that.

"You fled, then?" Offers the wyrmkin, a gentle nudge. With visible pain and effort he tries to sit up, to offer a hand upon her shoulders in sympathy. The man doesn't seem to care if he reopens his wounds right now. They might still in one sense be enemies, but he respects the woman, and he's a priest to the end. So far as he's concerned, right now he's on the clock.

"Do what you wish with what I have shown and said to you here," The vixen replies, unphased by his reaction. It was not the first time, after all, she must have played with younger ones in such a cruel way to teach them a lesson. His reaction was natural, one to be expected. Though in his current health, it would be unwise for him to give in to such desires, to fulfill his passion and give in to his lust.

The woman gives a slow shrug of her shoulder at Walter, "Believe what you will, Sir Walter," Her voice is calm and serene, "I cannot help one who refuses to be helped, nor can I help you see the truth if you keep on averting your gaze from it. The decision is yours, and yours along -- though should you wish to ever walk down this path, know that you will find in me an excellent guide," She lifts her cup of tea to her lips, sipping more of it.

It is harash, but Walter needs to realize on his own he needs her help and wants to walk down this path with her.

When the subject returns to her story, Kiyomi hums softly and answers, "No..." She lets her words trail off before adding, "I was but a child, blissfully ignorant, how could I have known? My mother tried to show me how to hide my tail, to avoid this but..."

"When the word spread out about a Yokai, Shinto Priests came in an attempt to seal and banish the evil. They discovered my mother's trickery..." Kiyomi lowers her cup of tea down and she rests her hands in her lap. She stares at the fire for a long time, remaining silent. "Covered in shame for mating with an evil spirit, my father was exiled from the village. We left, never to return..." Kiyomi offers with a shrug of his shoulder, "Shame," Kiyomi says as she reaches out for the katana and stares at the scabbard for a long time. Her hands tighten on the scabbard and she says, "... is a very powerful emotion, something created by humans. How is it possible, for a parent, to feel shame, when they think of their child?" Kiyomi asks, purely rhetorically. She lifts her gaze up at Walter, a weak smile spreading on her lips as the irony hits her, "In a sense, I was the living proof of his weakness. Of how he had been fooled by a Kitsune..." She turns her gaze away, "Though now I know, that all my mother sought, was a normal life, free of fear and oppressing. To be able to enjoy the simpler things of life, and cherish the ones she loved..."

This story seems like it happened decades ago, yet it seems so fresh in her mind. Sharing this with Walter, bringing those moments back to her mind brings obvious saddness on the Kitsune's features. Tears well up in her eyes and roll down her cheeks silently, the woman sobbing softly at the thought of her deceased mother.

Walter deactivates the secret cameras

Walter far, far too belatedly realizes that the trickster spirits that are kitsune can be completely infuriating. That serene state and her words only add to his frustrations, confusion and conflict writ upon himself. The offer laid to him is nevertheless accepted with a nod. A shake of his head, and he simply slumps in a show of utter weakness.

After long silence, he finally frowns.

"Ignorant, foolish Walter. I...must pray for God's guidance." Notes the knight, far too many paths before him. But it vanishes in his gaze as the Kitsune continues her tale.

The tale is a sad one, of human ignorance and hatred. Even one dedicated to humanity's defense can see its flaws, and anger courses through him. For all of their differences, Walter feels no evil in the woman. But he doesn't interrupt, even when she speaks of shame, and most importantly, of how her mother simply desired to live and love. The priest's dream, a world where a kitsune and a human could love freely, only swells in his heart as he finally begins to understand this strange, elusive, alluring, and loveable creature. In some small part, the story explains her hatred of humans all too well. That she would want to destroy them all for the sake of her own kin is understandable.

And yet, so too does the story harden his resolve to fight for that world even if he must face this tragic woman. That tail of his reaches as she begins to sob, to gently wipe away her tears should she not move. A gesture of sympathy and love to another being.

HIs very soul would be worth bringing that world where tragedies between human and darkstalker cease to exist.

"Forgive me, Renard. I desire no pain upon you. There is no need to continue if it is too difficult. I thank you for sharing this story with me, it..."

He nods. "I stand before the roads of life, many paths before me. The dream I strived for, only half realized...I think I can see it now. May...I know her name?" The last is asked oh-so-gently.

The tail that slowly snakes up its way to her cheek to lick away the salty tears that rolls down her cheeks surprise the kitsune. She jerks up a bit and glances up at Walter. A faint blush spreads on her cheeks and her lips curl into a warm smile as she looks up to Walter. She lifts her hand up to dry up her other cheek and she shakes her head slowly, "It is not your fault, Sir Walter,"

The woman moistens her lips and adds, "When I think of my mother, I feel only joy and warmth..." Her smile seems to reflect this happiness. She narrows her eyes and adds, "Though when I think of my father... There is only hatred and saddness,"

The woman closes her eyes and she leans over toward Walter. She reaches up to blow a soft kiss on Walter's forehead, caressing his cheek. "Enough stories for the day... Perhaps, another day, I will tell you the rest of my story," Kiyomi admits, giving Walter a warm, motherly smile.

She rises up to her full height and slowly strides away, "I am going out to fetch us something to eat," She says. She halts mid-way though, and lowers her gaze, "My mother's name was Aoi," She says, before she strides out of the cave.

There's a small look of triumph mixed with joy in helping a suffering soul. Walter smiles just as warmly to the kitsune. It tears at his heart, knowing her pain, and that they may well be on the path of conflict and bloodshed. But now, he can do at least this much. And more when he is given the honor of Aoi's name.

The hatred of her father, he can hardly condemn. After all, he hates both of his kin. A sigh escapes him. Curse this world, so full of hate and misunderstanding. It's then that he vows to grow truly strong, that he may one day help bring about change in such a rotten world.

A kiss to his forehead, and touch to his check has the utterly exhausted wyrmkin laying back. He relaxes. Eyes closing, he finally gives in, warm, safe, mind dreaming of that world where the tragedy that is Kiyomi would not be doomed to repeat itself endlessly.

Log created on 14:57:29 02/09/2015 by Chun-Li, and last modified on 08:04:57 02/11/2015.