Elise Olisbos (c) 2013 | email: eliseolisbos@yahoo.com
website: http://www.asstr.org/~Elise_Olisbos/
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Title: Larunalia (Chapter 2)
Author: Elise Olisbos
Keywords/Codes: futanari/dickgirl, fantasy
Summary: The manifestation of a death-goddess finds her consort.
(Inspired by the myths of Isis and Lemminkäinen.)

NOTES: Written for the Autumn Harvest contest over at the
Hentai-Foundry forums.

**Chapter 2 - Gelnadyar the Consort**

Bahjkir looked around the large room, taking in the lushly
decorated space with not a little trepidation. This room was atop
the Towers of Laru-Lel, a massive set of spires built directly
behind the Great Hall. The Towers were connected to the Hall by
subterranean tunnels. Kir had been working as a sentinel at the
compound for a few years, mostly to keep an eye on her little
sister, but she had never been this high in the Towers before.
Underneath her bare toes, the thick carpet felt like clouds.

Someone knocked rapidly on the heavy door, and Kir actually
flinched. She gripped the sides of the plush stool on which she
perched, taking deep breaths. This was actually far more
terrifying than the brute-force fights in which she had entered
as a teenager.

"Come in," she managed to croak out, and cleared her throat. The
door creaked open, no doubt pushed by the wraith which protected
it. Arla entered, awe written large on her face as she took in
the magnificence of the quarters. Then, her gaze landed on Kir
and she rushed over.

Kir stood up and caught her sister as she tumbled into her arms.
She was built strong, and Arla was still a small thing who showed
no sign of being as robust as her older sister, but Kir still
stumbled back at the force of her greeting.

"Kir!" Arla hugged her around her waist, jumping up and down in
her excitement. "Kir, you're the consort of the Eluuar!"

"So I've been told," Kir said and groaned as Arla squeezed her
tightly. "Arla, my ribs."

"The reincarnation of Gelnadyar!" Arla squeaked and released Kir
to perform a wild little dance, scrawny limbs and arms flaying.
Her scarf twirled with her. "You!"

"Me," Kir said heavily, and looked around the room again. This
space was a long way from the small house in which she had grown
with her father and Arla's mother. When Arla had been chosen to
be an acolyte of the temple (most likely because of her hair),
Kir had left her fighting lifestyle behind, applying for a post
of sentinel in order to watch over Arla.

This Luranalia had been the second one that Kir had experienced
at the Great Hall. She'd asked for the duty-assignment, mostly
because she wanted to make sure that Arla wouldn't sneak in and
be caught up in the temple-approved orgies. Arla was barely of
age, and Kir knew well how frantic the fucking could be.

Kir had been watching the stage performance with some interest,
and simply hadn't noticed the approach of the Eluuar. When she'd
noticed the revellers nearest her post giving her long,
incredulous stares, she'd thought that some trespasser had
managed to bypass the invisible watchfulness of the door-wraith,
and had ended up behind her.

She hadn't expected the Eluuar to be the one standing there. The
Eluuar's eyes had been covered behind that heavy veil of beads,
but Kir had noted the smooth dark skin of her cheeks and slightly
pointed chin, and the long hair lying in shining grey piles atop
her head. When the Eluuar had held her face, the small hands had
been so cool on Kir's jaw; and certainly, she hadn't expected
that lightning-filled shimmer in every part of her being when the
Eluuar had said, "Gelnadyar. It's you."

It felt as if she'd come fully awake after the Eluuar called her
by that name. Oh, it was a name Kir had heard many times before:
in stories, in games as a child, as part of a few choice curses.
In the stories, Gelnadyar was a figure of strength and brawling
good humour; how could Kir be even remotely connected to that
legend?

She sat on the fussy little stool once more, watching Arla bounce
from one corner of the room to the other. Arla released loud
noises of appreciation as she knelt on the thick carpet and ran
her hand over the deep pile.

"Do you know that she blessed me?" Arla said, tracing the
intricate patterns in the carpet. "The Eluuar. Remember I got
chosen to greet her? And she liked the flowers I collected! She
dedicated me under her protection!"

Kir smiled. Arla's expression was distant, and her face was
bright under the soft lamplight of the room. Arla had indeed
collected those flowers herself in the sloping fields out by
Lesser Nalel, slapping Kir's hands away when she had tried to
help. Arla had also worked on arranging the bouquet herself, late
into the night.

"Has anything happened as yet? From being dedicated?" Kir asked
and Arla's gaze sharpened. She tilted her head, thinking a
little, and then shrugged.

"No, not yet! But enough about me!" Arla jumped up and fairly
skipped over to the bed. A red garment lay on the mattress,
something made of at least five more layers than Kir was used to.
The thought of all that lace made her skin feel itchy all over.
Arla snatched it up, holding the top portion of the garment up in
the air, giving it a critical glance. "Are you ready to put this
on?"

"I don't think I will ever be ready," Kir said, meaning more than
just the clothing.

"But you'll be having your first meal with the Eluuar." Arla
sounded as if she as the one who was many years older than Kir,
instead of the other way around. "You're the consort!"

Kir felt a scowl twist her lips. "Arla--"

"Come on." Arla shook the odious garment. "I'll help you put it
on. Oh! My protocol training!" An expression of concern flitted
over her face and to Kir's dismay, Arla knelt on the ground. She
draped the clothing over one arm, to get it out of the way so she
could clasp her hands together and press her thumbs to her
forehead. "Divine Consort, may I assist you?"

"No, no, no," Kir snapped, running up and grabbing Arla by the
shoulders to drag her back to her feet. "Never, Arla, you never
bow to me."

Arla blinked rapidly. "But you are--"

"I'm just your sister," Kir said, enunciating very slowly. "Don't
forget that. I'm just Kir."

Arla nodded slowly. "You're just Kir." She smiled quickly. "And
the Consort, too. I'm so proud of you." She put her arms around
Kir's neck, and kissed her cheek. "So very proud. Now, will you
put on the clothes?"

Kir had no defence against a persistent sister. She allowed Arla
to unbuckle her breastplate and remove it, then strip her of the
hardy tunic. Arla bullied her into a nearby washroom, where Kir
dipped in a ridiculously large bath with fragrant water. After
she dried off, Arla pulled on the fancy clothes: first, a thin
undergarment that did nothing to hide her breasts and the thick
shape of her cock. Then, Arla tightened the jewel-studded corset
before the heavy jacket went on. A garland of ribbons sprouted on
each shoulder of the jacket, and the sleeves fit snugly over the
corded muscles of her arms, hiding all the scars and tattoos. The
sleeves flared out at the wrists, and tapered to a long point
which nearly touched the floor.

Then, there were the skirts. Kir had not worn a skirt since she
was a child, and now there were three, each one longer than the
other. Arla clapped her hands at the end of all this arraying,
and declared that Kir looked wonderful. Kir felt like a bird
stuffed for dinner.

The door swung open again, and the Eluuar's companion walked in,
followed by an array of floating trays. Kir opened her mouth to
ask about the whereabouts of the Eluuar, but the personification
of the death-goddess strode inside as well. Kir's mouth went dry
and she closed her mouth again. The Eluuar still wore that
head-dress and beaded veil and Kir couldn't see her eyes.
However, the Eluuar's mouth was set into a small smile; it did
nothing to assuage the fluttering sensation in the pit of Kir's
stomach.

Arla dropped to the ground, gowns blooming around her in perfect
genuflection. Kir followed suit, hoping that she wasn't kneeling
on any of her skirts.

"Your dinner is here," the companion announced quite
unnecessarily, in a very loud, reedy voice. Kir glanced up; the
Eluuar's smile twisted, as if she was trying to hold back a
laugh, and then she turned to her companion.

"Leave us, Malon."

Malon's eyes grew wide in her face and she began to shake her
head. Just as she opened her mouth, the Eluuar held up a hand.
Malon closed her mouth again.

"I'll be fine." The Eluuar's head turned slightly in Kir's
direction, "Besides, the embodiment of Gelnadyar is here. I could
not be safer."

Kir felt her cheeks warm. She was sure the Eluuar could take care
of herself, in any case. Malon's face was twisted into a frown,
but she picked up her skirts and swept out of the room. Arla got
up as well, and with her head held down, she headed for the door.

"Arla," the Eluuar called out and Arla stopped so suddenly that
she nearly fell over. Kir stood up quickly, to rush over if Arla
tumbled to the ground, but the girl righted herself. "How are
you?"

"I'm--" Arla swallowed hard, obviously flustered that the Eluuar
had remembered her name. "I'm well, Eluuar!"

The Eluuar seemed to consider her for a long moment, and she
turned her head slowly, tracking from Arla to Kir and back again.
The beads of her veil clattered lightly against each other.

"Ah, this is your sister," she said. Kir wasn't quite sure who
she addressed, so she nodded with Arla.

"The hair is similar," Arla said. "Although mine is more red."

"Yes, it is," the Eluuar said in a very indulgent tone, and
Arla's cheeks bloomed. She hurried to the door, turned to give
Kir a very heavy glance, and exited with a quick flare of her
skirts. Kir let out a low sigh and then inhaled quickly again at
the realization that she was alone with the Eluuar and the
floating trays.

"Put them over there." The Eluuar pointed to a round table which
was placed a few steps from the bed and the trays glided over
obediently. "You, with the tea, set it on the right of the
bowls." The plates and cutlery bobbed off the trays and were
arranged by unseen hands, into a setting for two. "Elio, do we
have enough spoons?"

"You can see them," Kir murmured. "The ghouls, you can see them."

"Yes," the Eluuar answered, and because she was apparently very
patient, she did not say obviously. "Ghouls, spectres,
wraiths...I can see any being who hails from the Deadworld.
Especially, if they're being naughty," she finished in an
extremely pointed tone. One of the wide bowls had been wiggling
in mid-air; at the Eluuar's admonishment, it landed on the table
with a light thump. However, most of it hung over the edge and
the bowl tilted off the table.

Kir moved without thinking, and ended up at the table in a blink.
She reached out and set her hand underneath the bowl, catching it
in her palm before it reached halfway to the floor. As she
straightened up, one of the invisible ghouls snatched the bowl
out of her grasp, and set it down on the cloth-covered surface.

The Eluuar was quiet for a long moment. "Your captain said you
were quick," she finally remarked, "but he obviously downplayed
how fast you really are."

"Well," Kir said and simply cleared her throat. What else could
she say? She was quick with weapons, and outran everyone in her
squad during training, but it was a talent she'd always had. Her
wins in those long-past fighting matches had been influenced by
her speed. However, when she joined the sentinels of Laru-lel,
the captain pointed out that while she was fast and strong, she
had to work on her aim, and so she did. Every day.

The Eluuar made no further observation, but returned her
attention to the work of the ghouls. The food, in the gleaming
silver bowls, smelled wonderful, and Kir's stomach grumbled.

"Thank you," the Eluuar said when the final platter shifted into
place. The door swung open and the trays wafted out. As soon as
the door clicked quietly shut, the Eluuar exclaimed, "Finally!"
She reached up and tugged off the small crown made of tiny orange
feathers, removing the beaded veil. She also yanked out some
large pins which had kept her hair in that extravagant style and
the whole mass tumbled down her back in a gleaming fall.

Kir stared at her for a long moment. Apart from the grey eyes and
the silver hair, the Eluuar wasn't what she had expected. She was
short and slight, and attractive in an ordinary way. Kir thought
that she would be able to feel a great power pouring from her,
but there was nothing, really.

The Eluuar grinned, and the corners of her eyes crinkled. "Did
they tell you my name?" She didn't wait for a response: "I'm
Vitalia."

Vitalia. It was a name that was fairly common, especially in the
eastern parts of Jharna; and since the Eluuar had been installed
in the Necrohal, Kir knew of at least nine newborns that had been
given that name.

The Eluuar--Vitalia--indicated with a wave of her hand that Kir
take a seat. Kir sat down at the table, watching as Vitalia
twitched the long sheaf of her hair to one side so she could sit
down. Kir looked at the food and then grabbed the closest serving
spoon, dumping a large portion of nearly everything onto her
plate. She glanced up; the Eluuar watched her in a very intent
manner.

"Shall--shall I serve you?" Kir asked; she had no idea what to
do. As the consort, was she expected to wait on Vitalia? Should
the Eluuar eat first?

"Oh, no." Vitalia grabbed her own plate, serving out a hefty
portion of meat, vegetables and bread. She nodded in satisfaction
and dug in with her utensils, closing her eyes with pleasure at
the first mouthful. "Mmm." She opened her eyes again and gave Kir
a questioning tilt of her eyebrows. "You're not hungry?"

"I'm starving," Kir admitted, and took a very large bite. She
hadn't gone through as much protocol training as Arla and the
other acolytes, but she knew how to hold her utensils properly.
She ate slowly; with her squad, a sentinel had no time for proper
manners. It was eat and go, shovelling down the bland meals
before rushing back to duty.

At this table, the food was delicious, and Kir tried everything;
even the white bread she usually despised had a soft texture and
a slight sweetness.

"This is really good," she said with her mouth full and swallowed
the whole thing in mortification. Vitalia laughed.

"Thank you very much. I'm glad you're enjoying it."

Kir had gone through three more mouthfuls before that registered.
She stared down at her plate, almost cleared of all that food.
"...you cooked this, Elu-- I mean, Vitalia?"

Vitalia nodded, her smile wide and pleased. "Yes, I did. I like
to cook, and I thought it would be….nice if I…" she trailed off
as Kir put down her spoon, very slowly. "Is something wrong?"

Kir closed her eyes tightly for a long moment. Possibly, when she
opened her eyes, she would be back in her quarters, just the same
old Kir. A regular sentinel in a regular room, eating a meal not
cooked by the mortal manifestation of a powerful goddess.

"Kir?"

"What does a consort do, Vitalia?" Kir asked, her eyes still
clenched shut. She heard the clinking sound of metal implements
touching the fine plates and then silence.

"You know, I don't really know." Vitalia let out a little laugh,
but it sounded strained to Kir's ears. "Gelnadyar told the most
outrageous stories. And she kept by Lura's side."

Kir shook her head, and then opened her eyes. Vitalia stared back
at her, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I can't be Gelnadyar," Kir whispered and was horrified at the
tremor in her voice. Vitalia blinked slowly, her lips parting in
surprise. Kir sat up straight, took a deep breath and forged on,
more firmly this time. "I'm not...I can't be the Consort. I'm not
going to be appropriate, I hate these clothes, and the
priestesses make me nervous. I just...can't." She folded her lips
in and wondered how the Eluuar of Lura, the death-deity, would
deal with someone who had refused to be their consort.

Vitalia dropped her gaze to her plate. "I understand," she said
and that was definitely not what Kir had been expecting. The
shock must have been plain on her face, because when Vitalia
looked up once more, she huffed a little in dry amusement.

"Do you know where I'm from? Shevalir?" Vitalia reached for a
plate of pudding, cutting it into slices. She took up one of the
larger pieces and placed it in a clean plate, holding it out to
Kir.

Kir reached out so slowly, for she felt a bit confused at the
direction of the conversation. "Yes," she answered as she
inspected the sweet. "My sister's mother had a craving for some
cheese from Shevalir when she was pregnant."

"Yes! The cheese of Shevalir, that's what we're known for!"
Vitalia laughed. There was something clear and bright about the
sound, when she laughed so openly. Kir found that she wouldn't
mind hearing it again.

"I loved living in Shevalir. I was normal, you understand?"
Vitalia picked up a spoon and dug into her pudding, retrieving a
large piece of dried fruit. "My friend had a pet winged lizard,
it was such a playful thing. It would fly so high and let itself
fall like a rock! And when it got near the ground again, it would
flap its wings and zoom along the ground." She popped the fruit
into her mouth and chewed in a contemplative fashion.

"Sounds like fun," Kir said, because it did sound nice. Everyone
knew the story of how the Eluuar revealed herself, but to hear it
directly from her was an experience in itself.

"One day, the little lizard crashed into a rock." Vitalia
searched for another piece of fruit, pouting slightly when she
couldn't find any more. "My friend cried so hard, but...its
energy was still very close by, so I just held it and pulled it
back in. I didn't want it to go." She cleared her throat and
covered her mouth. When she removed her hand, a piece of pudding
stuck just below her lip.

"My friends all ran away. I didn't know at the time that my hair
changed colour. They got over it, though, and the rest of the
village was fine. Until the priestesses came for me." Vitalia
shrugged. "I haven't been home since that time."

Kir frowned at that. "Never?" She reached out and cupped
Vitalia's jaw with one hand, using her thumb to brush the bit of
food away. Vitalia looked at her with that clear gaze. Her skin
was warm against the palm of Kir's hand. She thought the Eluuar
would be cold as ice, like how her hands had been when she'd
touched Kir in the Great Hall, but now she was just as warm as
anyone.

Just was warm as normal.

"I am the Eluuar," Vitalia said, and Kir to feel the movement of
her frail jaw. "I have responsibilities. Sometimes I hate them,
and I don't want to do them, but I have to. I understand what
it's like to be told who you are, and you really don't want it.
And," she said, pulling away from Kir's touch, "I don't want you
to be afraid of me when you're near me."

"I'm not afraid of you," Kir said before her brain agreed to
release that statement. She sat back as Vitalia gave her a look
of scepticism. "I mean, it's easy to be afraid of you, you're the
Eluuar. And I was, at first. But I'm getting over it, I would
say." She winked at Vitalia, not quite believing her own daring.
"The meal you made for me is going a long way, I suppose."

Vitalia gaped at Kir. Then, she tilted her head back and laughed
long and hard, gripping her side with one hand. Kir smiled; it
hadn't been that funny, not to her, but it was really nice to see
the Eluuar in such good spirits. Tears of mirth ran down
Vitalia's cheeks and she wiped at them helplessly, her laughter
petering out to soft chuckles.

She reached out, pushing aside their used plates to take Kir's
hands in hers. Her dark fingers fit so nicely against Kir's paler
skin. "You're the Consort. But you don't have to be by my side,
right?"

"I'm sure the priestesses wouldn't agree," Kir pointed out.
Vitalia wrinkled her nose, dismissively.

"I'll deal with them. Just...you be the Consort wherever you want
to be, and keep safe. Don't go getting yourself chopped into
pieces." Vitalia grinned at her, but there was a sad tinge to it.
When she tried to let go of Kir's hands, Kir rotated them rapidly
at the wrist so she ended up holding Vitalia's hands in hers.

"Maybe if I was more than just the Consort," Kir said, slowly
picking her way through the words as she pondered at the same
time. Arla didn't really need her anymore; and the priestesses
were nearly as watchful as Kir, if not more. She liked her job as
a sentinel; it was nice but…

"More?" Vitalia cut in through her thoughts. She tilted her head,
her expression curious, and some of her silver hair settled
against the curve of her neck.

"I could be your personal sentinel," Kir said. "Watch your back."
She rolled her eyes when Vitalia's curiosity melted to sheer
indulgence. "Yes, I know you're the Eluuar, but you still need
companions. And I think you need better security, too."

Vitalia said, "You're right," and she laced her fingers with
Kir's. She smiled widely.

"I am?" Kir nodded quickly. "Yes, I am. So, I make sure that
you're not bothered all the time and, uh, assassinated, and I can
be the Consort at the same time."

"It's very difficult for someone to assassinate me," Vitalia said
in a light, musing tone. "But not impossible. I definitely need
more effective security than just the consorts, and the ghouls
and so on."

Kir looked at her, just observing her face for a moment. She
wondered if Vitalia was just humouring her, but the Eluuar
appeared perfectly serious; it seemed as if she wanted Kir to be
happy.

"All right," Kir said in a rush of breath, more to herself than
anything else. "All right. I'm yours, then. Your Consort."

Vitalia's face lit up. It was so odd, because she wasn't smiling,
not really; but her whole being was transcendent. In a hazy
moment she was absolutely stunning, just like the stories of
Lura's unearthly beauty. Kir blinked and Vitalia's face regained
its ordinary state once more.

"I'm glad to hear that," Vitalia said, her voice very solemn, but
her eyes shone with delight.

------------------------------

email: eliseolisbos@yahoo.com
website: http://www.asstr.org/~Elise_Olisbos/
Please leave my e-mail address attached if you archive this or
share it with a friend.