Molokai, or the Friendly Isle, was a place that Nahoa found very quite pleasant. She enjoyed the warmth, the fields of sugarcane and the roaming cattle. It was a pleasant, agrarian pocket of society, removed from the huge tourist industry.
Nahoa found that to be one of the amusing facets of modernity. She certainly understood that the wealthy liked to move between seasons, this hadn’t changed between eras or cultures. It was the scale of it all that was equal parts mind-boggling and funny. It was also annoying. Nahoa didn’t consider herself a recluse, but there were too many feet on too little ground in these tourist hotspots.
This was better.
The cattle disappeared from view as soon as John pulled them into the Natural Barrier. Nahoa turned to the typical crowd awaiting them.
Nahoa knew the signs of soone losing the favour of their court. Though still standing at the centre of his coalition, Veridion was notably isolated from most of them. The Night Marchers were present in number, as they always appeared to be when a trial like this occurred after the sun had set, but only Kahaha stood near the god of oaths. The trio of present Mo’o, their elongated bodies coiled around each other, kept their distance, as did the nehune. The Kupua were a little closer, but even they did not truly stand by Veridion’s side. Kael, god of vengeance, squatted atop a nearby boulder, watching it all from above. Only the Oathkeepers were behind their leader.
‘They are not pleased with their “leader”,’ Nahoa comnted on the obvious.
‘Good,’ John responded to her. ‘ans that we aren’t dealing with scumbag subjects in the future.’
The Gar had, rightfully, not forgiven those involved for testing him with the screams of his beloved. That bla had mostly been pinned on Veridion and the Kupua. A correct assessnt, as was becoming more apparent. The Kupua were a flavour of fairy, so their mischief was… expected.
Everyone else would, as long as Fusion treated them well, likely fall in line and make no problems whatsoever. Since her Master had no designs for these islands besides holding them as a potential springboard, Nahoa was confident the locals would find little to object to. Only one faction’s leadership within Fusion would claim the empire wasn’t good to those it conquered.
“The trial of today,” Veridion declared, “is a test of loyalty. Whoever you have step forward will be presented with what they want and you will be given victory if they refuse all temptations.”
Collective amusent echoed from John and his harem ( Layla). Who among their number would be swayed by such a trial? It hardly mattered who John picked for this.
“Nahoa, want to take this one?” he asked her.
“Are you, like, suuuuuuure?” Nahoa asked, all cutesy. “I’mma be sooooo tempted to totally betray you, Master.”
John rolled his eyes, then delivered a swift smack to her rear. Rembering the dark tis when that touch would have ignited indignation and nothing else was not fun. Pain flared, subsud nearly instantly by the pleasure of the lingering stings. Her womanhood pulsed with arousal. She loved the feeling of her prestigious derriere rippling almost as much as she loved the lightly calloused hand that had caused it.
Having a libido was a wonder she would always be thankful for.
The smack propelled her one step forwards. Grinning her evil little grin, she looked back to John. When she turned to Veridion, she replaced it with puppy eyes and feigned sweetness. “I guess you can test now, mister.” She batted her eyelids several tis. “If you, like, think that it’s even worth our ti.”
Veridion snorted in contempt. “Let’s see how deep that ‘love’ of yours really goes.”
The teasing mood Nahoa was in instantly collapsed. “One day you use his love as a weapon, another you doubt it?” she hissed. “Bloodless son of the upper Hells, may your foul soul rot in its vessel. You are unfit even for sacrifice.”
A derisive sneer, a shaking of his head, then a turn on his heel. Veridion gestured for Nahoa to follow. She resisted the urge of driving Nextloaolli into his exposed back. As she followed, she made it a point to absorb the casual sumr dress that she had chosen for that day, replacing it with the uniform of her station. A maid of Fusion’s emperor wore her garb with pride. The black and white was a symbol of loyalty and status.
They stepped through a Swirling Point. Behind it was just another segnt of the island, no underground chamber or similarly dramatic landscape. In this segnt of the web of Natural Barriers stood a singular hut. Veridion stopped in front of it, facing Nahoa again. “For the sake of the trial, do you agree that you speak to alone?”
“I do,” Nahoa agreed. Instantly, she felt her already dulled connection to her Master diminish from a broadband connection to a binary string. All she could feel now was that he was alive.
“I swear that none of what we discuss will leave this hut without your agreent,” Veridion gave his own oath. “We are enemies, as of this mont, but you must be smart enough to trust that I an that.”
“Let’s just get this farce over with,” Nahoa stated and entered the hut. Veridion was imdiately behind her.
It was pleasantly cool within the mudbrick structure. Two seating pillows marked where they were supposed to settle down. Nahoa took the left one, Veridion the other. Between them was a low table, also ford from mudbrick. Several snacks lay upon it.
“Eat,” Veridion invited.
“No.”
“They are not part of the temptations.”
“I don’t care.” Nahoa glared at him, the annoyance still sitting deep in her bones. “I will not take anything you offer , bloodless one.”
“The second ti you call that. Is it an insult of your holand?” Veridion inquired.
“It ans that you don’t even have a life worthy of giving to my father,” she declared.
“Your father, the vulture.”
Nahoa’s bare shoulders tinged purple, diseased fus rising from her skin. Unalard, Veridion reached for a cup on the table.
“That is your heritage, isn’t it?” he asked, taking a sip. It wasn’t as if it was a secret. She herself had made it public when addressing her people upon their resettlent in Fusion. To ntion it to her was not just insensitive – it was a mistake.
“I am the daughter of sacrifice, no matter whose loins I may have been spawned from,” hissed the demigoddess. “Upon myself I heaped the diseases of thousands, until my flesh ran viscous and my hair was white. I will not be taunted by a god whose image of justice is rigid adherence to words alone. I have sacrificed, over and over, for my people.”
“Exactly,” Veridion responded. “Thus, here is the deal I offer you: you will have your empire. The Concord of War will assure your realm will spread from the xican desert to the south of the Andes. You will be Huey Cihuatlatoani. You will rule all your father was supposed to.” The god of oaths sipped from the beverage, before swiping his hand at an approaching tendril of the purple fus. “You will be provided with everything you need. Mana, material, n, support. The only condition is that you break your contract with John Newman.”
Nahoa heard him out only because she thought it would be over quicker if she did. “What a joke,” she mocked him. “Declined.”
“You would dismiss so easily the reunification of your people?”
“My people are people of Fusion,” Nahoa retorted.
“Your people are-“
The lecturing tone of the god snapped Nahoa’s patience. “Spare your sermon on what my people are!” She willed her cloud of diseases back into her body before she made the mistake to actually attack Veridion. “You are a leader without people, a judge without culture, and I am Nahoa-xoco-atl-xolotl, last living goddess of the xica! My will is the will of my people, their trust in is my duty, and I will not sign their honour away in a treacherous deal!”
“What if there was a way to revive the gods of your people?” Veridion asked.
Nahoa blew air out of her nose in imdiate contempt.
“I swear that it is true,” the god of oaths stated, his tone stern and exasperated. “The Concord of War has most gods under its sway, you think we haven’t found ways to revive fallen comrades? If the Gar can reconstruct gods, then so can we. Take the deal and we will restore all the gods we can – your father at a minimum.”
“I did not express my disbelief,” the axolotl maid stated. “rely my growing hatred for you.”
“You would be this quick to dismiss the revival of your entire civilization?”
“There is nothing to revive, soulless judge.” Nahoa’s voice was a low, malicious hiss, filled with the venom she kept beneath her skin. “My people aren’t dead. We are bruised and broken, but the xica are not gone because they are changed. My father sacrificed himself for . I will not disrespect that sacrifice by dragging him back to life.”
“A selfish clinging to power and love, then,” Veridion stated.
Nahoa threw her head back in mirthless laughter. “You understand nothing about what happened on that day. You have heard, from honoured Death, perhaps, from seers, likely, but you don’t actually understand what happened. Sacrifices were made. Deeds, not oaths.”
Veridion circled his wrist, the beverage in the cup almost reaching the edge as it was swept along the motion. “Not even hesitating for your own father…”
‘If I ever et him again, it will not be because of you.’ Nahoa stayed her tongue, not caring to exchange more words than necessary with this mountain face of a character. ‘Huitzilopochtli, who lived a coward and died a father, will not be dishonoured by his daughter sacrificing her future for his past.’
“…you truly are a monster,” Veridion stated. “You and the Gar might be made for each other.”
Nahoa growled. It was a bubbling, gurgling sound, the plague mucus in her throat almost overflowing. The intensity of her emotions initiated a change in her body. Skin liquified from no diseases other than her own. She expanded, her human features gradually giving way to a river monster, her head frad by pinkish purple frills.
For the first ti, the god of oaths seed surprised. The half-axolotl creature lood over him. “You know nothing of monsters,” spoke the demigoddess, before forcing her form to collapse back into the petite woman she truly was. Never would she consider that side of her to be her truth. That was Xipe-Totec’s way. “Are we done here or is there another farcical offer you wish to make?”
“No, there is nothing left to demonstrate.” Veridion stood up and had the gall to leave before her. “You can have the point in this ga, but your inadequacy as a person is my victory.”
It really took everything inside Nahoa not to stab the pompous prick repeatedly.
Hopefully, soone would do that soon enough.
___________________________________________________________________
Nahoa preened at the multi-directional attention she received in the aftermath of her victory. As was tradition, the honoured harette was showered in kisses and ear scratches. The latter was not common nor was it rare. Nahoa was hardly the only woman in this harem with unusual and sensitive ears. Well, in her case it was the row of axolotl gills behind her pointy ears that really appreciated the careful caress.
“You are a bunch of immoral actors,” Veridion stated before his exit.
“Such a salty loser,” Lee declared.
‘I am sorry I revealed my Monster Form in a mont of passion,’ Nahoa notified her Master between kisses with Nathalia and Aclysia.
‘It’s fine, he swore not to share what was discussed,’ John thought. ‘With a fairy I would be afraid of him talking about what he saw only, but he is such a stickler for the spirit of the law that I trust he will be bound by his own principles. If he isn’t, that won’t be too bad either.’
They departed from the Natural Barrier soon thereafter. A plane took them from Molokai back to Hawaii. Then, they were boarding their enormous car. Though Nahoa, by right, could have claid the central spot in their semi-truck, she decided to sit in the back – with Layla.
The demigoddess wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the reforming stalker yet. Obviously, if Master wanted her, she did approve. Nahoa trusted absolutely in John’s judgnt of character, she was just maid that way (pun intended). None of his dedicated servants would offer more than cautious pushback… except maybe Momo, though Nahoa was 100% certain that the fairy maid would ultimately fold if John really wanted soone she thought was a poor idea.
Layla was one such potentially poor idea. Nahoa knew that she would still go along with John’s decision, and she would feel better if she verified for herself that it was a good one. He wanted to rely on his harem’s judgent, so she best have an inford opinion.
“Sooooo, Layla.” Nahoa went for her ditzy tone. Even with people that knew her true character, she couldn’t help herself but tease them with her sugary exterior. What had started with a way to ss with annoying and oblivious people at court had eventually beco just part of who she was. “I’m, like, thinking about carving Master a throne from the bones of his enemies but that feels soooo last millennia.”
“Why would he want to sit on the bones of his enemies anyway?” Layla returned a question of her own. “That sounds uncomfortable.”
“Yeah, not to ntion they don’t deserve to support him, right?”
“Yeah,” Layla responded instantly.
Nahoa found her overplayed smile becoming a little more genuine. For all of their layers of civilization, there was still that impulse of bloodlust inside every western person. Though she now agreed that the xica had indulged their savagery too much in the past, Nahoa found herself thinking that, perhaps, a bit more ‘primitiveness’ would serve John’s people well.
“If you make anything out of people, make a pillar or sothing,” Layla gave her thoughts. “So kind of landmark that just says ‘don’t ss with the Master of the world’.”
“We are not crafting anything out of people!” John comnted from the front.
What a waste that thought was. Bone was such a fantastic crafting material. Those that sacrificed parts of their corpses to such endeavours should be honoured. She certainly treated the remnants of her father’s spine, forming the base of Nextloaolli, with great reverence.
Nahoa’s eyes fell on Layla’s hands. “I think you chipped a nail.”
“What?!” Layla imdiately checked her nails and, true enough, one of them was slightly damaged. “Must not have applied enough polish…”
“You use nail polish?” Nahoa asked and leaned in. Now that she had been told so, she could faintly sll it. It was entirely clear, though, and barely reflective.
“You never know when you need to claw a lot,” Layla stated. “I would grow out my fingernails a bit, but I think John prefers them short.”
“He does,” Nahoa confird. “He prefers what we prefer even more.”
“I prefer what he prefers the most,” Layla gave the expected and endearing response. Well, it was only endearing because Nahoa knew she ant it. Under most circumstances, it would have been understood as a desperate attempt to please. “By the way, Nahoa?”
“Yes?” the demigoddess tilted her head.
“Do you have so kind of skincare routine? You are always so shiny!”
“An advantage of a Perk,” Nahoa responded, stretching out one of her hairless arms. The dark skin had a light sheen, as if oiled recently. “Though I do partake in maid-tenance frequently.”
“What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s when us maids get together and…” Nahoa petered off, then laughed. She had just realized that her intent to learn more about Layla had been turned right around. “You really want to know everything about us, don’t you?”
“Of course!” Layla bumped shoulders with her seat neighbour. “Every – last – thing!”
It would have been creepy if she wasn’t so cute.
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