2.03 Level Up

Rosalie d’Celestin had heard that the Fractures—and to a greater extent, their shards—were above all else, capricious. Fickle. No two behaved the same, and even the same shard was prone to aberrancy within its domain. But the one she had shared with her tall, dark-haired companion had been many times odder than she had prepared for, even accounting for this.

It concerned her, truthfully, whether partnering with Zoey would result in similar shards. Would all latch to such … indecorous … behavior as a result of Zoey’s runes? Or had the previous shard been an outlier? If the former, Rosalie might have to reconsider her decision to adventure with Zoey.

Or did she? Had it really been that bad? For all the discomfort it had provided, it had also offered some … ‘not’ … discomfort …

She couldn’t explicitly say she had fun. A d’Celestin would never.

And who was this girl, anyway? Rosalie stared into the sleeping face of the strangest woman she’d ever met, her heart finally calming from its pounding.

Rosalie had never woken in the arms of another person. She had never thought it would turn her insides to a gooey mess, or have her stomach bouncing with butterflies to the point she felt nauseous. But that had been what happened, five minutes ago, when Rosalie’s eyes had fluttered open, and she had felt herself entangled by the soft heat of a woman she’d shared more intimacy with than anyone in her life.

It wasn’t any person who would have invoked the feelings. Not ‘waking in another’s’ arms by itself. It was because it was the odd, caring, gorgeous woman she’d met the day prior who was breathing softly next to her. Rosalie’s body pressed tightly into Zoey’s, and while, having come down from the bliss in some small manner, she could now be frank, now admit that things were a bit warmer than she’d have preferred, with sweat starting to gather where their bodies met, Rosalie still wouldn’t have broken contact for anything. She’d have laid this way an hour. Two. However long she could.

Not that she would ever, in one hundred years, under extensive torture, admit such.

Besides, it was a biological reaction. A weak, human one. Rosalie didn’t care for Zoey, not really. She was a potentially useful party member, and that was why Rosalie had offered to partner with her, regardless that it would take ages to catch her up to speed, and that she showed no natural talent for combat. She had rare, powerful runes—one that even accelerated Rosalie’s own advancement!—and that was the reason Rosalie wanted to be around her.

That was the reason she studied Zoey’s sleeping face and felt like she might float away. Her runes.

Did that make sense?

Even an intense effort in self-deception couldn’t quite get her to a ‘yes’, so she chose not to think about it.

Rosalie knew herself quite well in some regards, and exceptionally poorly in others. That was what a life of focus afforded: imbalance. To exceed, sacrifices needed to be made. Romance had been one of many for Rosalie, growing up.

And it would remain that way. The barest, tiniest hints of  a crush (was that what it was? With a thrill, Rosalie realized she had found a word for it) meant nothing. Her goals hadn’t shifted one inch. Her circumstances, either. She was still the youngest daughter to Enzo d’Celestin, Guildmaster of the Deepshunters, one of the five single most powerful men in existence. To say she had expectations piled on her would be a comical understatement. ‘A mountain’ might not do it justice.

But pressure hardened. Made stronger. The crushing pressure her father exerted was not some form of cruelty. Enzo was not cruel, for all his faults; his position merely demanded it. His violent efforts during Rosalie’s upbringing had been to chisel from granite a successor worthy of his title. His two previous attempts—Elodie and Charlotte—had not emerged from the stone to his liking.

Rosalie hadn’t either, she suspected. But a few smidges closer. And she’d drawn his scathing attention from her sisters, so she was pleased with that, at least. They had become less miserable when Rosalie had been chosen as his successor.

As for Rosalie?

Well. When a mountain rested on her shoulders, what were a few more boulders?

The past two weeks had been some of the best of her life. She’d done nothing but commit herself to carving through shards, advancing her runes, gathering equipment and resources, then repeating. This task, she’d been trained for her entire life—and was many times easier than her training. It had been a vacation. Away from her father.

Vacations were something d’Celestins were rarely afforded.

And Zoey. Zoey had been the gilded lining to an already solid block of gold. The ‘good’ piled on good. Almost more than Rosalie’s (tiny, insignificant, miniscule, irrelevant, pointless, distracting, shouldn’t-exist) crush, it was her casual companionship that Rosalie (didn’t, absolutely not, why would she?) adored.

Rosalie hadn’t had friends growing up. She’d only had her sisters. And those were … complicated relationships. Charlotte especially. For all she’d been plainly happier Father’s attention had shifted to Rosalie, she was still furious she’d been discarded as heiress.

She hates me for it. Charlotte had doted over her, before Father had chosen Rosalie. No longer. But she’s happier now. What was being hated, in face of that?

Something in Zoey’s breathing pattern changed. Her nose twitched. She’s waking up.

A few moments later, Zoey’s eyes opened.

The smile that melted across Zoey’s face pained Rosalie in a way she had never experienced.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Zoey murmured.

Rosalie’s heart did something it hadn’t ever before. Something that mildly concerned her. She might have to talk to a physician about it. “You’re a clingy sleeper,” Rosalie said. “Perhaps I was justified in requesting two rooms.”

“Mmm,” Zoey said, stretching and rolling her neck—and squeezing Rosalie in, as a way to ease her muscles into wakefulness. Rosalie wasn’t affected by the sudden pressure between their bodies. “Happy you didn’t,” Zoey mumbled, snuggling into her.

Rosalie scoffed. “We’re on a schedule, if you don’t realize. It’s well past daybreak. We should get up.”

“Can’t I bask in the bliss of having a cute girl in my bed, for a second? You’re such a taskmaster.”

She scoffed again. Perhaps louder than was appropriate.

“Hey,” Zoey said, suddenly. “What’s a tingling in the back of your neck mean?”

Rosalie blinked.

“It feels like, uh, I don’t know. Something’s changed. It’s weird.”

Rosalie’s brow furrowed as she extricated herself from Zoey’s grasp. Now seated, and the covers thrown partially off, she frowned down at Zoey. “You did not advance a rune after a single shard.”

Zoey blinked rapidly up at her. “Is that what happened?”

Without thinking, Rosalie placed a pointer finger on Zoey’s forehead and requested to read her anima.

A second later,

###

Rune of Bonding (Mythic)

[1]: Bond. Release seed onto or inside target and activate to Bond.

[1]: Alacrity. Bonded targets evolve runes with greater speed.

[1]: Bolster. Provides a powerful, temporary boost in strength to Bonded target.

Rune of Arcana (High)

[1]: First Circle. Cast spells up to one Circle in complexity.

[1]: Element: Ice.

Rune of Sensuality (Superior)

[1]: Lust. Mana replaced with resource system Lust. Symbols are activated by expending Lust.

[1]: Harvest. Perform erotic acts onto self or others to harvest Lust. Bonded targets provide greater yield.

[2]: Pressure Point. Identify sensitive areas.

[2]: Accommodate. Tight spaces are more obliging.

Rune of the Alchemist (Common)

[1]: Identify. Ascertain name and use of basic alchemy reagents when using Inspect.

Generalist Skills

[1]: Inspect. Discern basic information about equipment linked to the System.

[1]: Inventory. Store items in personal inventory-space.

###

She had. Rosalie opened her eyes and stared incredulously at Zoey. Her ‘Rune of Sensuality’ had moved from first to second advancement after only a single shard. And sure, she’d made good use of it—runes progressed on related activities, and Zoey had had plenty of … sensual engagements … in her time in the shard—but still. One shard? Absurd. It had taken Rosalie four before her first had progressed.

Her party-member’s situation grew stranger and stranger.

“What’s it say?” Zoey asked. “And you gotta show me how to do that myself, when you get the chance. Not that I mind sharing. With you, at least.”

Rosalie paused, then flushed crimson. She’d just requested—and been given—access to a person’s tabula anima with less ceremony than most spouses shared. And she doesn’t even realize what it means. But Rosalie did. And she’d requested it nonetheless, without even voicing it into words.

Tiny, small, insignificant crush, she reminded herself. “You’ve gained two skills,” Rosalie said, hoping the red she felt burning her face didn’t show.

Zoey grinned. “They must be good, based on that.” She poked at Rosalie’s cheeks, which she swatted away, then huffed at.

Rosalie wasn’t blushing because of Zoey’s new skills—though they were, admittedly, embarrassing in their own right. She had no intentions of letting Zoey know the real reason.

“The first,” Rosalie said pointedly, “is Pressure Point. It lets you identify sensitive areas of a target.”

Zoey paused. “Okay, first, that’s wicked. But is it for sex only, or like, monsters too?”

Zoey frankness, like usual, was hard to digest. She tried not to let it color her cheeks further. “I presume both. It seems ambiguously labeled on purpose.” The Scribe could be vague in Her wording of offered skills. Most believed it to be intentional. Because obviously. Why would a deity’s actions be unintentional?

“Awesome. Maybe next shard, I can help more. It kind of sucked being useless.”

A foreign, instinctive urge bubbled up—to reassure Zoey. But such a nature wasn’t who she was, at her core, and she pushed it down. Zoey had been dead weight when it came to most fights. She’d saved Rosalie twice, sure, but those had been odd circumstances. In a normal shard, she’d be worse than most party members by an order of magnitude. “It does sound useful,” Rosalie said.

“The second?”

Rosalie cleared her throat.

“That’s the embarrassing one,” Zoey said, grinning.

“Accommodate,” she recited. “Make tight spaces more obliging.”

Zoey’s grin widened. “Oh, thank god.”

Rosalie, like multiple times before, noted the ‘thank god’. It revealed more than Zoey likely realized. Why would a person be so openly blasphemous? The ease the phrase slipped from her, she didn’t know she was doing it. Did she see only one god as as the ‘true’ god? Who? And why? The gods’ presences in the mortal plane was hardly unproven; while rare, they presented themselves during moments of great duress. A documented fact.

A thought came to her, and Rosalie prevented a snort. Knowing Zoey, likely Ephythithys. Such a perverted woman would worship only the goddess of life, fertility, and sexuality, relegating all other deities to secondary importance. Though, why not ‘oh my goddess’, in that case? She supposed it wouldn’t be wholly odd to refer to any individual member of the pantheon as god, regardless of presented gender, but still. Strange.

Like before, Rosalie didn’t react to the accidental reveal. Truth told, she wanted Zoey to keep slipping up and offering hints into her past. Her ‘memory problems’ weren’t as comprehensive as she presented. Though definitely they existed … her circumstances were odd in some manner Rosalie couldn’t decipher, but most of what she said seemed honest. Rosalie didn’t want to push the point.

Did she have a right, when she so plainly hid who she was?

“It does seem useful, considering your …”

“Prodigious size?”

“Unseemly size.”

“Unseemly?” Zoey pouted. “That’s not very nice.”

“It’s bigger than my forearm.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

No. Absolutely not. “Obviously.”

Zoey paused. “Yeah. I guess it is. Too big’s painful, which isn’t fun.” She grinned. “But that’s fixed now, isn’t it?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“How effective it is.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” An even more wicked smile. “Wanna help me find out?”

Rosalie’s heart started slamming in her chest. She forced her nose to wrinkle in disgust. “No, not particularly.”

“But you’re a helpful party-member, so you will?” Zoey suggested playfully—and tauntingly, as if she saw through Rosalie.

Rosalie made a show of considering it, then reluctantly said, “I suppose it’s my duty.” She finished throwing off the sheets—which had shuffled down their waists from earlier movement—revealing Zoey’s previously-hidden lower half. Zoey had started stiffening in anticipation of their conversation. Her enormous cock poked out from the leg-hole in her underwear, growing to her knee as it engorged with blood.

How can she even think straight when that thing gets hard? It had to take up half her body’s blood.

She doesn’t, Rosalie reminded herself. She doesn’t think straight. Zoey’s kind and concerned nature receded when she was aroused. She’d seen it more than a few times. Not that I’m complaining.

Rosalie paused.

No, she was definitely complaining. Why would she be happy that whenever her dick got hard, Zoey treated Rosalie like an object to extract pleasure from?

A d’Celestin would never take enjoyment in such degrading treatment.

Rosalie’s fingers hooked around Zoey’s underwear as she tugged it down, springing forth a girlcock at least twelve inches long. It throbbed in veiny glory, leaking a liquid at its tip. Pre-come, Rosalie’s limited knowledge on sex provided. “You really are such a troublesome teammate,” Rosalie said, voice composed, despite her amazement—amazement that presented itself whenever she saw Zoey’s member. How was it so big?

Why was it on a girl?

“Good thing I have a considerate mentor.”

“Good thing, indeed,” Rosalie huffed.

The scorching heat on her face wasn’t showing, right?

Rosalie’s hands went to Zoey’s impressive cock and started stroking in a way she’d grown bizarrely familiar with. She savored the radiating heat, and the way it twitched in Rosalie’s controlled movements. That wince. That breathless exhalation. I’m the reason for that.

Zoey pulled out a bottle of lube, then squeezed it on the top of her cock head. Rosalie fulfilled her duty and worked it in, slender fingers massaging in the slippery liquid.

“Hey,” Zoey said suddenly, between side-to-side wiggling of her hips, and whining inhalations of pleasure. “If I wanted to put in that tongue ring, how’s it work? Could I just shove it through and drink a health potion?”

Rosalie blinked at the question. “I would suggest a numbing agent first, but yes, that would be the general process. I could do it for you, if you want?”

A smile split Zoey’s face. “I mean, you’d be the one reaping the benefits. So if you want to?”

Her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, she imagined Zoey’s head shoved between her thighs, her diligent tongue working away to explore her insides—and aided by a magical item. What would it feel like? Even thinking about it had her breathing ragged.

Her response was calm, composed. “As if I’d let you put your gross mouth down there.”

“Even if I asked nicely? I’ve been wondering what you taste like.”

“Have you?”

“Since we met. You drive me crazy, you know that, right? You’re gorgeous. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

Coming from the actual most gorgeous person Rosalie had ever set eyes on, the compliment forced a flush onto her cheeks which even her denial didn’t let her pretend wasn’t obvious. She pointedly didn’t meet Zoey’s eyes, instead stroking her hands up and down Zoey’s length. “Shut up,” she ineloquently said.

Zoey laughed.

“We’re testing your skill,” Rosalie said. “Nothing more.”

“Right. And how do you want to do that, again?”

Inside. Gods, please. Inside me. I want it so bad. “My mouth, obviously,” she said, contradicting the throbbing between her thighs. “We don’t have a condom.”

“You don’t? I thought you were supposed to be prepared?”

“And you think that includes condoms?” The outrage in her voice wasn’t genuine, seeing how Rosalie desperately wished she did have them on hand. She had even been in such an addled state last night she’d shaved her pubic region in preparation for taking Zoey, consequences be damned. It was a good thing she’d fallen asleep. Rosalie had come to her senses by morning. Her throat was all Zoey would be getting.

“Sure. Just in case, right?”

Rosalie huffed.

“Still. Your mouth. No complaints. Last time was … pretty amazing.”

“Last time, I had an aphrodisiac aiding me.” There wasn’t a chance Rosalie would have gotten so deep, without it. This time, she’d have Zoey’s newest skill helping her … but with such girth and length, it’d still be an effort. “It’ll be … a challenge.”

Zoey sobered at the reminder of Rosalie’s dubious consent to that encounter. Not that Zoey had had opportunity to consent either. Zoey had been more upset at the interaction than Rosalie had. Which was sweet. Rosalie would have reassured her—more than she had—about how Rosalie’s chemical influence hadn’t actually bothered her, but how could she, without revealing how badly she wanted—

Well.

She didn’t want it, that badly. Zoey’s cock was amazing, but it wasn’t like any time her eyes caught it, her brain blanked out. It wasn’t like anytime she saw Zoey’s impressive mast, she couldn’t think about anything besides what it would feel like stuffed inside her, what its throbbing heat would feel like squirming around in her insides. Or what’d it feel like crammed down her throat, cutting off her oxygen supply as Rosalie’s eyes rolled back in euphoria, vision darkening at the edges as Zoey used her throat as a means of extracting an orgasm.

Rosalie’s hands stroked up and down Zoey’s cock in lewd motions. Rosalie had always been a person who picked up new skills fast. And this one—the way Zoey’s hips wiggled and her cock pulsed in pleasure—was something she paid more attention to than most.

Because she was a diligent teammate. Wayfaring required teamwork. She was fulfilling her duty as Zoey’s party-member. She was disgusted by her bizarre class, of course. The perverted collection of runes she’d been granted by the gods. But she’d persist regardless of her distaste. It was her duty as Zoey’s teammate.

And why had she agreed to be her teammate?

Because … because …

Zoey was useful, obviously. She had potential.

She watched Zoey’s body shiver in pleasure.

Zoey said, “I’m uh, ready. Don’t wanna finish before we test things out, and you’re, um, pretty good at this.”

Right. Rosalie had initiated because they wanted to test Zoey’s skill. Her determined two-handed stroking had only been to work the lubricant in. She’d gotten lost in—in absent-mindedness, not lust. Lust? Absurd. Rosalie couldn’t be less aroused if she tried.

She stopped stroking, then repositioned herself, laying down, so her legs were halfway hanging off the bed, and Zoey’s cock was positioned to the left of her face, its length pressing into her cheek. Zoey’s expression was resolving into that hazy, lost-in-pleasure one that told Rosalie she would finally stop being nice.

Thank the gods. Rosalie greatly appreciated Zoey’s consideration, but during sex, she—

She nothing. Zoey’s mean, forceful, dominating behavior was irritating and nothing more. But she tolerated it. Like a good teammate would.

“What are you waiting for?” Zoey breathed.

Rosalie gripped the base of Zoey’s cock and raised her mouth up to its tip. Why is it so gods-damned big?

“Hurry up.”

Rosalie lips wrapped around Zoey’s girlcock, then carried forward.