Chapter 40: 35. Night and Light

Furtive's Pov                                                                                                                                                                                                         

I hate everything. I always have. I am quiet because I hate. I hate dirty people with dirty thoughts. I hate the Moblins slightly less than than the humans because they don’t lie about what they are, but I still hate them. I hate myself for being both. Zeha I hate the most of all. She loves me, dirty, stinking, shy and weak, yet she loves me enough to scream if I’m out of her sight.

I go to answer her by raising my hand without speaking as I have since childhood, that’s when I notice...my skin, it’s pitch black. It must be as they say, each Moblin to it’s congenital element. I hate being seen, being noticed. I hate my mother for Dying, I hate the Lankashire’s bandits for killing her. I hate Zeha for hiding us in the corn field. I hate her for getting a job as a chamber maid with the people who killed our family. I hate hate her for getting me a job peeling potatos. I hate myself for never grabbing a sword and stabbing the Lankashire’s in the back. I hate myself for never leaping on Zeha, crying to her, screaming at her, fucking her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, killing her, saving her. I hide, I hate, but I never love or kill? Is that the secret? Is that the mystery to my misery?

Zeha’s pov                                                                                                                                                                                                            

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I love everything. I always have. I’m very loud because sometimes I forgot I love everything and need to convince myself of it. I love helping people clean up messes and teaching them to be positive. I love the Moblins for helping me to keep my mind of of thing that bothered me as a person. I love the feeling it gives me to help these awful people like my father. That’s why I loveZeha so much. He hates me and is dirty, stinky, shy and weak. He makes me feel so needed I get upset if I don’t know where he is.

I look frantically for that raised hand from the quiet figure of Furtive since we were children, that’s when I noticed...my skin, it’s radiant white. It must be as they said, I know my purpose! I love to find things, do clean up. I love the Lankashire’s for killing Furtive’s mother, I love the Lankashire’s taking away everything he had but me. That time in the corn field as those sweet little tears ran down my shoulder and over my budding breasts. My job gave me financial power of her, his job gave me social power over him. How I wanted him to grab me from behind and spear me on his cock, but he was too much of a coward, that’s why I changed his name in the registry to Furtive, to weak to even protest and I’m the only one alive to know the difference! To humiliate him is my greatest joy now, I wanted one kind of joy from him, but I’ll settle for another. Not even becoming a Moblin has changed him, he’s mine mine mine. If the Empress tries to take him I’ll put a knife her heart...in fact now is probably the perfect time while Galatian and Faraday are clearing out the obstruction and each other. I was going to kill Ebbe and then stab the Empress’ heart and escape with Zeha while collapsing the tunnel behind me, but my little mess disappeared! I have to find him before the chance disappears! The angel has promised me many blessings as he whispers in my ears!

 

Third person __________________________________________________________________________________

Furtive changed drastically, his eyes, nails, nipples, lips and genitals acquired a pale moon like yellow which was still very difficult to see despite being yellow. It would remind one of a moth, moths were Furtive’s favorite creature. Excellent at hiding, avoiding...but Furtive didn’t want to hide any more, didn’t want to deny his sexual urges or his frustrations with life anymore. He wanted to change and the Moblin magics coursing through his body were feeling obliging.

His neck elongated as it gain powerful muscle, the rest of his body following suit, particularly his arms and torso. He could feel a grace to his movements unfamiliar to most Moblins, but not uncommon in moths or winged creatures. A puffy ring of obsidian fur sprouted from his neck, veins began to push from his skin and dangle down to his ankles before a material looking like velvet began to condense like crystal on them. Slowly they condensed not into powerful flying wings, but a sort of biological cloak that made it even more impossible to find him in the dark. He was still shorter that most Moblins, but carried an undeniable and fearsome appearance capped by two curved up that extended at 60 degree angles from his head, they had protuberances that made them look like moth antennas having a distinct vase like shape. However they were completely solid and despite his seasoning of moth like accoutrements he was undeniably Moblin in appearance.

Zeha was also changing, though in ways that seemed less pleasant for her than it had been for others. If most transformations seemed like slipping into the body of who they were always supposed to be, it was more like Zeha was burning up everything she was to fuel the transformation. It igniting in her with the desperation of an animal whose limb was caught in a trap. As her skin became literally illuminated sparkling white her blonde hair became more of a platinum and began to float of it’s own accord. Her frame began to bloat to a size more befitting a Moblin as she reduced in height and gained in weight and lumens. Her cheeks in particular became like spot lights. Her eyes took on that same platinum color of her eyes.

As she looked frantically for Furtive she separated from the group and went down an abandoned shaft, unbenounced to her was that Furtive was with her the entire time. He stayed just out of her light as she searched, years of watching her had made him extraordinarily familiar with her movements. She on the other hand knew nothing about him other than how to make him suffer.

A hand of pure black tipped with pale yellow nails clasped her throat from behind and picked her completely off the ground, the hand encapsulated her entire neck. A voice whispered in her ear, it was no longer the mewling of an incompetent, but the voice of a confident if soft spoken man. “Well, well, well little light of mine, let me guess the scheme. Kill the Empress while everyone is distracted and take me for yourself again. I understand now why I didn’t fight you. I love you. I’m not afraid to admit it like I was as a child. My mind is clearer now, which is shocking since my lust for you is so oppressive. I can admit it, I knew you were lighting the fire that night to signal the bandits, I just loved you too much to stop you. As terrifying as what you were doing was the idea of life without you was even more so. My fears compounded, multiplied, but becoming this...Moblin creature, I at last have the strength to untie the knot in my heart. My cowardice made me complicit. As a child you reignited the fireplace while parents were away and warmed me that evening with your body, since then I have been entirely dependent on you. Tell me Zeha, do not lie, did you close the flue of the chimney that night so the fire would go out?” Zeha smiled dementedly, her teeth dim and malicious looking against her radiant flesh as she twisted her neck in the phantom grasp to peer over her shouldering into utter darkness and spoke. “The widdle baby wouldn’t come to me, just like my father who refused to hold me. I couldn’t have it, I saw how he would hold my mother so I just spilled a little soapy water on the top of the stairs. Papa held me so tightly after momma died! That’s how I learned all I needed to make you love me forever!” A pair of yellow eyes opened like moons in the darkness before narrowing. “I do love you Zeha, but I was too young and you were too twisted. We only warped further and entwined more with age. Even now I am utterly without hatred for you, just love...lust and most of all, hatred of enormous intensity. I am going to break you Zeha, make you mine. Prepare yourself, I am your doll no long, I am Furor!” His moth wings spread to reveal one last change, an enormous phallus with glans already pushing through the strained and musky foreskin.

“Tonight Zeha, you learn as I have, how to be a Moblin. Mine.”

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