sound the bugle now

amalia chandrakant there is a color that shines through your skin Like the moon on the wind "The safe word-?" But before she can finish the thought Amalia is taken, literally and metaphorically, her body and enveloped by Frey and everything they represent. Colors burst before and behind her eyes, warmth spilling through her lips, the cracks within her soul. It fills her, consumes her, until she does not know where she begins and the diety ends. Everything is red, and it is nothing- -It is everything- -it is so much, too much, and Amalia cries out in ecstasy as wave after wave of pleasure rips through her body, playing a symphony on her nerves, a lightning storm of sensation crackling deliciously upon her skin. Renewed, refreshed, awakened and alive, the girl forgets her failings and fears, letting them wash away like silt beneath the crashing surge of orgasm. There is no room in her mind for regrets. There is barely enough space for her own name. Frey's touch is a lover's caress inside her soul, so different from the slicing words of before. Amalia blinks as the scene changes, red fading away to black, green, blue, yellow, and it takes her a moment to realize what she is seeing. Once she does, she gasps a choked sob, tears leaping, unbidden, to her eyes. "It's beautiful," she breathes at the world below her. Her home, before time ravaged it. The Hollowed Grounds, before they were hollow. Days pass like seconds, and through the last tremors of orgasm Amalia watches as people rise and fall. Frey's hands are firm and gentle, her guide's caresses steading the girl as they make their dizzying flight to the Spire. Stomach rolling, gasping for breath, Amalia tangles her fingers in some of Frey's and stares with wide eyes at the foot of the obelisk. The Spire Monster... But it looks gentle, eager, its frenzied ascent punctuated by an expression of near joy. Frey's hand is on her hip, their voice in her ear, and though she does not know how her body can bear it, Amalia yearns for more. More knowledge, more sensation, more of everything- Eyes still on the demon she nods her head, too enamoured and enraptured to double-guess herself for once. "More." the night is full on behalf or your evaded mask And the rings round your eyes

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