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Jarnja Sings, Wondering
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2022-01-30 22:56:08Jarngrimr sang us away:
Freida and Ingvi rode out into the sun-dappled woods,
bows and falcon-fletched arrows ahand, aback boars,the twins wore cloaks of wolf, fall was at its apex,the smell of loam and Nerthus’ autumnal perfume rosein mist like an intoxicating oracle past oak and ash.The Golden Twins were hunting the white hart, dashingthrough Vanaheim aback war sow and hog, spilling rubyblood of Ingvi’s sacred antlered stags, Freida saw aspiderweb woven of gold, and as Ingvi roasted the hartshe strayed in her feather cloak and moonlight dress toa dwarven hollow, where a soot-rough duergar smithed abeautiful bracelet shaped like the sun, Freida swelledwith gold-lust, for Gullveig is her witch-name, and themetal of morning and dawn is her domain. Freida spokewords of want to the blackened dwarf: “Lay with me thisharvest tide, and you shall mine gems and finRelated chapters
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Asmodeus' cruel face softens. “I don't mean to pry, Janet, but don't you tire of resisting? It must be exhausting. Loving someone you despise. Let go of that hate, crown jewel. It is only keeping you from flight.”My wing stains ache. I nearly knock my tea cup over in anger. “Who said anything about love?” I demand. I have never told a single soul besides Samael that I love him. It is a secret I desperately keep. How sad, a tithe in love with her Fairy King. The Fairy King wound up being Tam Lin, trapped by his own enchantments. True, he is in ensnared by me, but our magic goes both ways.Asmodeus whistles low. “Raw nerve, eh? There's no use hiding your desire from me, Janet. You were built for him. Your very DNA has Samael etched on it. Fetal contracts and all that. Your signature is your wings.”“I was built for no one besides Proust’s vast corpus of literature,” I say haughtily.Asmodeus assumes a patronizing look, as if he is indulging a petulant child. I hate it. “Don't lie to yo
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A breeze picks up, spreading the cherry blossom petals to the breeze like rice thrown at a wedding. Samael catches a handful idly, crushing them between his fingers. I cringe at his act of destruction. He winces at my reaction and discards the pulp.“I didn't mean...” he trails off.“I know,” I say, too quick. I chew my upper lip, my cheeks burning. I am embarrassed for my show of weakness and even more for lashing out with violence. “I- I shouldn't have hit you.”“It's nothing. I’ve withstood much worse.”Cricket chirps and the gentle buzz of cicadas stretch in the silence between us. Fireflies light the air like will-o'-the-wisps.“I - I wouldn't mind if you told me a story,” I say.Samael looks at me in confusion. “Really?”“Yes, really. Like you did when I was young.”He smiles tentatively. “If you're sure...”“I am.”He rises, coming to sit beside me. He drapes his cloak over my shoulders to keep me warm. “Thank you,” I say.“It's nothing. Shall I - do you want me to begin?”“Y
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The Troll Queen's Bride Porphyry
He helps me up. “I'm carrying you, Jean. Don't struggle.”“No! That's humiliating!” I yell, a loud maudlin. He does so anyways, lifting me up gently. His robes snake around me to stabilize me, and he folds his sooty owl wings to shepherd me away from the public’s eyes. I flail about, too disoriented to put up a united front, and end up with a mouthful of owl feathers.“What did you think would happen, pounding back all those drinks?” Samael says, his voice dry. He carries me out of the bar and further into the dusky hubbub of the streets. “You don't have a demon's temperament for alcohol, and you've never been able to hold your liquor.”“It's called drowning your sorrows, asshat. Alcohol is my crutch. The problem is you. Let me go.”“If I do, you'll fall again.”“I'd rather fall than be carried by you.”Despite my protests, he keeps me aloft, gliding like an omen through the streets. His robes are cold against my cheek, so eternally cold like his skin, just like the grave of his flesh.
The Troll Queen's Bride Enough
“Somehow, you snore like a foghorn. You look like Briar Rose, trapped in a thicket.” “Zzzz… eh?”“How delicate are the farts of a maiden who babbles in her sleep,,” Lussi drawls, naked, morning wood of his double serpent hemipenes crooked up like twin spears to the dawn. His prehensile cocks weep silky gold precum. My beloved husband idly watches me as the Arctic sun shines through the clouds of Vidagol. “Clear blue skies like sailor’s eyes,” he says. My husband’s amaranthine irises glow, his cheeks flushed as he draws the covers closer to my chin, then he tenderly leans into me, tracing the rise and fall of my breasts in fascination. “No lovelier creature has ever been made. I adore you. I worship you. You are all I want.”“Mrph?” I groan. My mouth stinks of sleep, and their is night grit in my eyes.He takes a deep whiff from my mouth. “Morning breath, as usual. Still cute.”I grunt and flip him the godsfinger. “Ten more minutes!” I groan, pulling the covers above my frazzled curls.
